


The Animal

by Draconicmaw



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Small Town, F/M, Female Reader, L and Light are partners -- the detective kind not the romantic kind, L is the king of roasting his partners, Light is a psychopath even without the Death Note, Mentions of suicide attempts/suicidal ideation, Mildly Disturbing Wet Dreams, Now featuring smut, Resolved Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Werewolf!reader, dark themes, guts and gore, in this werewolves are monsters and not just giant glorified dogs, though not quite murderous, veterinarian reader, why isn't that a tag yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:13:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 53,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25519339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draconicmaw/pseuds/Draconicmaw
Summary: L Lawliet and Light Yagami are taking a case in a small town in the woods -- people are being killed on a near monthly basis, their bodies ripped apart beyond recognition. What seem to be animal attacks take on a stranger nature the more closely they investigate. Who -- or what -- is killing these people?You are a werewolf, have been for years. Though you managed the beast inside for several years without incident, everything is spiraling out of control -- you are killing again, and no matter what you do, you can't seem to prevent it. World-class investigators are brought in to find the culprit of your savage sprees.The danger only grows as a magnetic attraction forms between you and one of the investigators.Can you rein in the animal inside before you kill someone you love? Before someone you love kills you?It seems like it's only a matter of time before things end in tragedy...(Updates every Thursday!)
Relationships: L (Death Note)/Reader
Comments: 132
Kudos: 159





	1. The Kill

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been getting back into Death Note (For like the millionth time) and I figured it was time that I contributed a fanfic to the fandom. I'm not really sure if I want to continue this story, but I want to start on something that's entirely unrelated to my other fanfics at the moment. It helps clear my head. Either way, I really like this idea and would love to hear your thoughts on what I have so far. Also, this is the first time I have written this characters, so tell me how you think I'm doing. I love constructive criticism ^-^

The fire crackled. Burning logs shifted and collapsed. Embers burst up like a breath in the cold, but they quickly faded into the dark night. The warm glow was welcome on this cold night, though the lack of clouds made a spectacular display in the night sky – out here, far away from the city lights, the stars twinkled in their bright bands, like diamonds studded on dark, dark blue velvet. The moon was an enormous silver disk, full and fat and absolutely dazzling.

The woman sighed, rested her head on her lover’s shoulder. His arm wrapped tighter on her. Their thick coats whispered against one another with each subtle movement.

In the tree line, just some meters away, a twig snapped.

Neither heard it.

The predator hunched into the tangled shadows of the trees. Air huffed in and out of its snout as it took the scents in.

Snow, smoke, the woods… _warm flesh_. A lip curled on the next huff, sharp teeth bared momentarily to the cold night. It hunkered lower, poised, muscular shoulders shifting. A growl rumbled in its throat, quiet enough to not disturb its prey. Its dark eyes reflected the orange glow of the fire.

Ears flicked, this way, that way. All was clear.

Then, in a burst of speed and vigor, it lunged from the tree line. Powerful legs made short work of the snow laden ground, and the prey could hardly react before the beast was upon them.

The male twisted his body, blocking his mate from the attack, but the beast landed hot and frenzied upon his back. He was tackled to the snow, his mate trapped beneath him, and she screamed as the beast’s massive maw closed over his shoulder and neck. Hot blood sprayed onto the cold white, onto her horrified face as the monster gored her mate to a screaming death within seconds. Bones crunched audibly beneath powerful jaws.

She watched him gurgle on his own blood as the life faded from his eyes.

Those dark eyes, bright with bloodlust, peered into her own as the beast gave him a final brutal shake before releasing him. He slumped, lifeless, on top of her. Strings of bloody saliva dripped down from ghastly teeth. Its breath smelt metallic and sickeningly sweet, like gore and meat. Bile gurgled in the back of her throat…

And she couldn’t even scream when it lunged down and crushed her skull in its jaws.

A bloodcurdling howl echoed through the night.

The moon watched silently.

* * *

Before you were even awake, you could taste the blood. You sat up quickly, blinked the sunlight out of your eyes. Your hands sifted in the cold snow.

You were naked… lying in the middle of the forest… covered in blood.

“No, no, _no, no!”_ you cried, glancing to your wrists. Not even a mark from where you had cuffed yourself the night before. You had torn right through your bindings… “Not again,” you sobbed. You scrubbed at the blood. Despite lying in the snow, it seemed most of it was dried, crusted on. You wished desperately that it belonged to some animal, but you knew better – you could smell it, _taste_ it…

It was human.

* * *

L tucked his hands in his coat pockets. His toes twitched in his boots. It was bitingly cold outside. The sun shining down on them felt like a mockery.

Still, despite the cold, all he could smell was coppery blood.

Light sniffed disdainfully as he crouched down near the ravaged corpses. The cold would have preserved them, if they weren’t already so incredibly fresh. The fire they had built last night was still sending up wispy clouds of smoke and ash. It was just smolders.

“Interesting how we were just getting ready to start our investigation on this case and another killing happens the next day,” Light noted.

L hummed. He pressed his arms tighter to his body. It was really fucking cold out.

Matsuda had stumbled off into the trees to vomit. L could understand why – the crime scene was a bloodbath. The male was shredded like mozzarella cheese, the female’s skull crushed beyond recognition. The snow was stained with blood and viscera. Even L felt a nauseous churning in his gut.

Apparently, there were some things he just couldn’t become desensitized to.

Light, meanwhile, continued his duties with only a disgusted sniff or tsk or two.

L snorted. Of course.

“The local police department thinks it was an animal attack,” Light said, getting up to carefully look over the tracks. “But I don’t think any wild animals in this area are capable of this kind of damage. I mean, what has a mouth big enough to fit an entire human head in it?”

“A bear,” L replied. “Though bears haven’t been sighted in this area for a very long time.” He’d already looked it up. It had been decades since the most recent bear sighting in this rural area. Long before he was even born.

“These aren’t bear tracks,” Light replied. He cautiously stepped forward to look at them. The local police department had already taken pictures of the tracks, and, unfortunately, the snow didn’t have the right consistency to get a plaster cast of them.

“I didn’t say they were,” L said, quiet, contemplative.

“Do you think it’s like—”

“—No.” L didn’t even need Light to finish his sentence to know what he was thinking. “He left distinctly human tracks behind.”

“Well, this person might have thought of what he didn’t. He would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for his footprints,” Light continued.

“I suppose they could be some sort of foot covering,” L conceded. “They’re certainly big enough.”

“But two killers killing so bizarrely in the same way?” Light huffed. “His psychosis was so strange I doubt it is so easily replicated.”

“You’d be surprised…” L murmured, biting the dried, dead skin on his lower lip. “The Internet is a wondrous thing, Light.” Several studies showed that mental illness was, in a way, contagious – or, at least, its manifestations were. For example, bulimia in China didn’t revolve around vanity and body image until exposure to Western culture. L blinked down at the gory crime scene, though his mind was far away. “Perhaps this person had similar notions, feelings, dysphoria, and simply followed in his footsteps upon learning of his methods.”

Light made a low sound, unconvinced. “Perhaps it _is_ an animal attack,” he pondered aloud. “But also a murder.”

“An animal as the murder weapon?” L responded. They’d dealt with it before – a serial killer who’d trained dogs to rip people limb-from-limb. The sick bastard had loved to watch his beasts do the killing for him. But L huffed at the idea. “What, do you think someone has a trained bear hanging around their property? On a chain like the family dog? Fed scraps after dinner?”

By the way Light’s jaw ticked, L could tell that he wanted to say something scathing in response. “What better idea do you have?” He snapped instead.

L shrugged. “Perhaps they really are just animal attacks. These victims, the victims found before them, even the people missing – they have nothing that connects them. Serial killers generally have a type, a common theme among their victims.”

Light rolled his eyes. Quite the childish mannerism. “We already covered the fact that no animal in this area could have made wounds like these.”

L blinked down at him. “That’s true. But I didn’t say it was a local animal.” He took his hand out of his pocket to press a gloved thumb to his lip. “The probability is very low, but it’s not impossible. Animals get misplaced all the time. That’s how invasive species get footholds in new habitats.”

“I’m sure the locals would have noticed any large exotic animals wandering around.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. There are hundreds of square kilometers of uninhabited forest in these areas. A large exotic animal could easily find shelter.”

“Well, we have some clues as to what it could be, then,” Light sighed. “Nocturnal, strong enough to crush a human skull in one bite. Not to mention a mouth big enough to fit a whole human head inside. Large tracks…” Light stood, tucked his hands in his pockets. “Other than that, we’ve got nothing.”

L frowned. “They never got DNA samples for the other victims.”

Light shook his head. “There weren’t any bite marks on previous victims. At least, the bodies that they _found_ … Then again, some of the corpses were so torn up that they wouldn’t have been able to know what was a bite mark and what wasn’t.”

“They should have taken swabs, anyways,” L muttered.

“They were convinced they were animal attacks. And they’re a small-town local police department, anyways,” Light scoffed. “The most exciting thing that normally happens around here is probably old ladies calling in for their missing cats. Of course they aren’t going to be as thorough as they should be.”

L grunted.

“At least they did for these ones. Maybe that will show some sort of result,” Light continued. “We at least should be able to tell what sort of animal it is that did this particular attack.”

“If it was an animal.”

For once, L didn’t know what to believe.


	2. The Case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first few chapters of this will get pumped out faster than the later ones as I try to establish the story. Either way, here's the next chapter.

The hot water pounded down on your back. You watched the red swirl down the drain. It seemed never-ending. You didn’t even have the energy to cry anymore. Horror and self-resentment still churned in your gut. What was even worse was that _physically_ , you felt amazing – well-rested (despite running around a greater part of the night), rejuvenated. The ache that had been building up in your body all month was gone now.

You sighed wetly, rested your head against the clammy tile after you had thoroughly washed yourself down.

You had killed again. It could be any number of people – you didn’t remember the details of your… lunar excursions, save for snippets in fever dreams that haunted you well into your waking hours. Your throat was tight, your breaths short and sharp. Deep breaths, forceful to the clenching in your lungs, staved off the worst of an anxiety attack.

But perhaps you deserved an anxiety attack. You deserved nightmares until the end of time.

You were a murderer.

The roaring of the shower paused abruptly. You stood there a moment, your hand still poised on the faucet knobs. The bubbled glass of the shower door hissed against its rails. Steam clung thinly to the air – most of it was filtering out into your bedroom.

Lurk sat on the sink counter. His eyes, one a bright green and the other a cloudy white, blinked slowly at you.

“Hey, baby,” you cooed. He chirped back, standing, tail and back arching in greeting. You stepped forward, grabbed a towel, and stretched a hand out to scratch the top of his head.

Another slow blink as he maintained eye contact, a stuttering purr starting to rumble in his chest.

“Good kitty,” you whispered. Most animals avoided you the day before, of, and after the full moon (which was a hassle, considering your career choice), but Lurk didn’t seem to care. Or maybe his self-preservation instincts were complete shit. Which seemed unlikely. He was a scrappy cat. Even fended off a possum once.

One of his ears was rumpled and warped – a hematoma had inflated the cartilage with blood, and, after you had drained it and it healed, it remained wrinkled and folded.

It gave an already unique cat even more character.

His unconditional love made you feel better on your darkest days. Even if he looked like he walked right off the set of _Pet Sematary_.

He was your cute little black zombie cat.

You stood by the counter and brushed out your hair. Lurk rubbed up against you, left his long black hairs on your towel. You couldn’t even get mad at him.

“I don’t know what I would do without you, buddy,” you said quietly, pausing a moment to stroke a hand along his back. He arched happily under the attention. You gently nudged him aside when you moved to brush your teeth and gargle enough mouthwash to rid the flavor of blood that lingered in your mouth.

You threw the toothbrush away. You would always be able to smell the blood on it, now. It was tainted.

You sighed, padded into your bedroom to get changed for the day. Lurk followed closely behind. Thankfully, it was Sunday – you wouldn’t work at your clinic today, since Davis was covering for you, but you would come in if an emergency was called.

It felt wrong, to stay at home and do nothing when you had just mauled at least one person to death last night.

But what else could you do? You couldn’t bring them back. And the absolute worst option was going to prison.

And not even because you feared prison itself.

You feared what would happen when the full moon came… and you were trapped… in a building full of people… for an entire night.

It would be a fucking bloodbath.

You had tried suicide several times before, but chickened out, or simply failed.

You didn’t _want_ to die – you loved living, loved your job, loved Lurk, loved this small town out in the forest. But you didn’t want to keep killing, either.

But you knew, if it ever came to the point that you were going to be arrested and taken into custody, you would kill yourself before they could bring you in.

For their own sake.

* * *

They had nothing to go on but old police reports, files from the DNR, and the evidence gathered at the current crime scene.

L, from his perch on the desk chair, frowned down at the papers littering the table.

Light sighed. “Can’t you sit like a normal person for once?”

L blinked at him. His thumb pushed against his lower lip. He didn’t bother answering. Light had a habit of bringing it up roughly eighty percent of the time they were alone together – it just seemed to be a solid part of their communication now after all these years. And the rate increased when Light got stressed – when their cases were going nowhere.

Even Matsuda didn’t bother to respond. He was still looking a little pale from getting sick at the scene earlier. The delightful elderly woman who worked at the reception desk at the sheriff’s office had provided him with some soup. She’d even given L two cookies.

What a wonderful woman.

“About six years ago, the attacks started happening,” Light was summarizing, and, by his tone, it seemed that he was mostly talking to himself. “It started with livestock. Then moved to people. Five people over about a year and a half. The culprit was never found. Local police and DNR summed it up to freak animal attacks, and they let the case fall to the wayside when the attacks suddenly stopped happening.” He tugged out a different file. “Then, about six months ago, the killings started happening again. Again, livestock and people. Including our victims from this morning, that makes thirteen people dead overall, both from six years ago and the more recent ones.”

“Have they identified the victims from this morning?” Matsuda asked quietly.

“Yes,” L murmured. “They had identification on them. Janice and Matthew Anderson. Married. Native to the city about two hours away from here. Seems like they were renting a cabin for a charming weekend getaway.”

Charming weekend getaway that ended in disaster.

“All of the victims were out in the woods at night. That’s the only thing they have in common,” Light noted. “These Mr. and Mrs. Anderson are the first to have been killed in the same location at the same time.”

“Which means,” L drawled, “that if we have a human murderer on our hands, he’s simply killing them as he comes across them.”

“He?” Matsuda murmured.

“Very few serial killers are female,” L reminded. “It’s simply most likely that, in the case of a human murderer, that it’s a male.” Less than sixteen percent of serial murderers are female, and female serial murderers often use subtler, quieter means of taking out their victims. And, generally, they kill people they are close to.

These victims had no connection to each other, and nothing tied them to a mysterious third party that could be suspected of killing them. They also died incredibly violent deaths. If it was a serial murderer, the probability that the murderer was female was so incredibly low that it wasn’t even worth considering.

L hummed, dragged the pointed edge of his canine along the pad of his thumb. “If it’s human, we are looking for a male. Younger, of course. An older man would not have the stamina to kill in such a manner. he would have incredibly violent tendencies and outbursts.”

Matsuda paused. “Do… do you think he’d be like… _him?_ ”

L flicked his eyes back over to Matsuda. “That’s likely.”

Matsuda shuddered in horror. “I could hardly believe _one_ person like that existed, much less two.”

“Body dysphoria is a relatively common phenomena,” L commented, “and I imagine that species dysphoria is more common than you’d think. Combine that with psychopathic tendencies, and you have the makings of a monster.” L thought a moment about the communities of people who created ‘fursonas’ – alter-egos that allowed them to become the animals they felt themselves to be. _He_ , however, had taken it to an entirely different, _disturbing_ level.

His body suit had been equipped with _teeth_ , and hydraulic jaws strong enough to crush bone.

He believed he was a predator born in the body of a man. And he did everything in his power to become the beast he felt he was on the inside.

Light nodded. He seemed to be particularly fond of this idea, but Light always favored the most gruesome explanation. It was, after all, originally his hypothesis, and L’s own earlier commentary assuaged any skepticism he’d had on the subject. “That case went viral. It’s likely someone who feels the same way copied his methods. Even improved upon them. After all, the Wolfman was caught because of his footprints, which were distinctly human. This person could have devised a sort of foot covering to mask his human trail.”

“But why is there a four-year gap in the killings?” Matsuda asked.

“Some serial killers have been known to kill in sporadic bursts,” L replied.

“He probably couldn’t hold back his urge to kill anymore,” Light muttered darkly. “He had an itch to scratch.”

Matsuda gasped, like he just had an idea. “The livestock attacks might have been experimentation with killing. He realized they weren’t enough and moved on to people.”

“Livestock attacks continued even with the human victims,” L reminded. “I think, in the case that our culprit is human, that he simply started to discriminate less on who he was killing. Anything and anyone he could stumble across.”

“We’ve got a sick fuck on our hands,” Light mumbled to himself. Matsuda frowned at his choice in language, which Light ignored.

“ _If_ we have a human murderer,” L added, rubbing his lower lip with his thumb.

Light ignored him. (Light was good at ignoring people when he didn’t agree with them.) Matsuda looked relieved at the notion.

L supposed there was only one way to find out…

… Keep investigating.

“I guess it’s time to gather information from the locals.”

* * *

Your hair was still damp when the call came in. You tucked your home phone in the crook of your shoulder as you looked out the kitchen window towards your barn.

It seems last night that you’d torn through your bindings like they were made of cotton. Fortunately, you hadn’t caused much more damage to the barn when you escaped. You frowned. Were you getting stronger? The same bindings had worked for four years before you snapped them a couple months ago. Now, you were buying stronger and stronger ones, and nothing seemed to be holding you back.

If you could afford them, you’d even be willing to try silver ones just for the hell of it. What did you have to lose at this point?

You shook your head when you heard Davis calling your name. “I’m sorry, Davis. I got distracted. What were you saying?”

“Mr. MacDowell’s German Shepard had a run-in with a porcupine.”

“Paisley?”

“Yeah. She’s scared and in pain, and I can’t do it on my own. I don’t want to use a sedative in case she goes into shock. Kirsten was trying to help me, but we couldn’t pull the quills outs.” His voice was shaking – he was clearly desperate, nerve-wracked. Porcupines and dogs did not mix well together.

You sighed. You loved Kirsten – she was a wonderful receptionist and record-keeper, but she was often too overwhelmed by nerves to be of any use with the patients.

“I’ll be right in,” you murmured.

“I’m sorry,” Davis said.

“Don’t be. I understand. I’ll see you soon.” You hung up.

Lurk – who, of course, followed you around everywhere – looked up from between your feet when you shifted to put the phone in its charging cradle. He meowed, and you sighed down at him. “Guess I’m going into work today, Lurk.”

He meowed again in response.

“Yeah, I know.”

You quickly changed into some scrubs, grabbed what else you needed, and before long you were climbing into your vehicle and on your way to the clinic.

Paisley was too energetic for her own good. She was constantly running off, visiting the neighbors, roaming the woods. She’d basically become the neighborhood dog where Henry MacDowell lived in a small mobile home park just east of town. She was allowed in practically every house; she was a family member in every home. While that was all well and good, her excursions into the forest often ended in disaster. Last spring she had apparently dove face-first into a hornet’s nest, and a year before that she’d suffered a mysterious accident that had completely dislocated her tail from her pelvis.

You couldn’t do anything about it – you were a skilled surgeon, but you couldn’t put the tail back where it belonged with such a break, and amputating in such a sensitive area left you a little wary. You’d recommended Henry to a university animal clinic in the city, and when you saw Paisley at her check-up the next month, she was a German Shepard without a tail.

And apparently, she just doesn’t learn her lesson.

You snorted to yourself as you pulled into the clinic’s parking lot. You recognized Henry’s rusty red pickup, but the sleek black, nondescript car was not familiar to you. You knew almost everyone not only by their face but by vehicle in this small town. You frowned at it, shrugged, and jumped out of your vehicle.

Maybe someone had gotten a new vehicle. It sure seemed nice, even if a little plain.

You could hear Paisley whining all the way from inside your car. Granted, your condition gave you heightened hearing, but the point remained that she was being quite loud.

You quickly left your vehicle and entered the clinic. The bell chimed behind you. Three men stood crowded around the reception window. Kirsten was a blushing mess – she always became one around new men. Poor girl.

“Ah, Doctor!” she squeaked, leaning to look at you from around them. Three sets of eyes turned on you.

You sniffed discreetly. They definitely weren’t from around here.

“Uh, these guys are from –” she began, but you waved her off for the moment.

Paisley’s whines of pain were still ringing in your ears. “I’ll have to deal with them when Davis and I are done with Paisley.” You had barely spared a glance at them even when you nodded at them in greeting, and you opened the door that separated the waiting room from the exam rooms.

Kirsten didn’t even need to tell you what exam room they were in – all you had to do was follow the scent of blood and the whines of an agonized dog to find them.

“Doc!” Davis greeted with a huff of relief. Henry was there, holding his dog down and petting her soothingly.

“Oh, Paisley,” you breathed upon seeing her face. She was a living pincushion. Quills protruded from swollen wounds all over her face and neck, and you could even see some on her tongue and in her gums. Poor puppy.

You quickly slid on some gloves.

Time to get to work.

* * *

L was trying his best to focus on the receptionist, but the yelps and whines echoing from behind the dividing wall were incredibly distracting.

“Yes, she consulted on the case in the past,” Kirsten Cook, age twenty-four, commented. She was blushing up at Light, who had of course turned his charm on ‘high.’ Most women were putty when he pulled out all the stops.

L wouldn’t admit to his jealousy at the fact.

“What qualifications does she have?” Light asked, picture-perfect polite, the slightest of a Japanese accent twinging the edges of his syllables.

“Well, she’s a certified veterinarian, and also has a degree in animal behavior,” Ms. Cook replied.

Light nodded, jotted a note on his paper pad. All this information was in the report files, but Light often didn’t find those satisfactory. This was one of the few things he and L agreed upon – local police often missed small details, but even the smallest of details could be the key to cracking a case wide open.

There was a collective wince when the dog yelped particularly loudly.

“Wow,” Matsuda breathed. “Sounds like you guys have your work cut out for you.” His English was still heavily accented.

“Yeah,” Ms. Cook laughed sheepishly. “Paisley seems to have picked a fight with a porcupine. And lost.”

“Ow,” Matsuda commented.

L snorted. How bright and insightful a comment.

Light continued with his questioning as if he wasn’t interrupted. “Did she ever mention anything about the cases?”

Kirsten frowned and shook her head. “No. Nothing descriptive that I can remember. She said that she wasn’t allowed to discuss the case with people who weren’t involved in it.”

L snorted again. People rarely ever followed those rules. Especially if they weren’t law enforcement.

L departed from them. Hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched, he walked around the waiting room of the small veterinary clinic. There were several paintings, some of serene field scenes, but most of them depicted animals – a horse running, graceful and strong; wolves, peering around one another and a snow laden bush to stare at the viewer; a painting of a cat lying in a cooking pot that was set on a counter.

His lips ticked up. Each painting had a little plaque beneath them. They were all painted by the same man. L pressed a thumb to his lower lip. Perhaps a local?

He tuned back into the conversation at the reception desk. They seemed to be questioning Kirsten herself now, if she knew anything or had experienced anything strange. Some time passed with little to no new information gained, and the door opened to the back of the clinic.

The head veterinarian walked out, a man beside her.

“We’re going to keep her overnight for observation,” she said quietly, head tilting, eyes kind and warm and sincere. “Porcupine injuries this severe can be fatal, and we want her here just in case anything bad happens.”

The man, his face creased with worry for his hurt pet, nodded solemnly. “Whatever you say, Doc. I know you guys will take good care of her.”

“Of course.” Each word dripped with genuine compassion and L could already tell – this woman loved her job, and she loved her patients.

She walked the man out the door, and when it swung close behind her with the tinkling chime of the bell, she turned back toward them, her hands on her hips. She introduced herself (though no one said no introductions were needed for her, since all present knew her name). “How can I help you gentlemen today?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The serial killer they mention, referred to as The Wolfman, is inspired by a character on the Netflix series 'Hannibal.' Great show.
> 
> Anyways, the next chapter will be the one where L and the reader truly meet and interact. Feel free to tell me your thoughts, good or bad, what you liked and didn't like, what I could improve, and if you see any typos in the text. But most of all, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and, if you didn't, feel free to tell me why. <3


	3. The Veterinarian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: In this AU, L has no need to hide his real name. While he is a world-class detective (arguably the best in the world), we are following a more realistic route with his background life events. If I find it to my dissatisfaction, I may rewrite this story and change how I am writing it. However, feel free to tell me how you feel about the events unfolding in this story. Constructive criticism is always welcome ^_^

“How can I help you gentlemen today?” you asked brightly, hands on your hips.

But you knew the answer. You knew why they were there.

In the exam room when you had been carefully pulling porcupine quills out of Paisley’s face, Davis and Henry had discussed the bodies found early that morning by James O’Brien, who had been walking his dog, Bruce (lovely, lovely English mastiff, such a sweetheart).

Two. Two bodies. You had killed two people last night.

You’d only shook your head, genuinely hurt, angry, disgusted. You didn’t bother hiding these emotions – they were socially appropriate, given the situation.

And your sharp hearing picked up the conversation from the reception desk just some yards away.

Investigators. _Foreign_ investigators, based on the accents of the only two who had been speaking.

A cold chill climbed up your spine. Your outbursts were getting a lot of attention.

This did not bode well.

The three detectives stared back at you. Two were by Kirsten and the reception desk. The shorter one with dark hair (he reminded you of a dopey black Labrador retriever pup) beamed back at you. “Ah, yes, well, we would like to talk to you about a case we are working on,” he said. He had a thick Japanese accent, but his English was syntactically perfect.

“I’m Detective Light Yagami,” the second one said. His accent was less noticeable, his pronunciations crisper. He stepped forward with an impeccably polite smile and outstretched hand. “You can call me Light.”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled when he got closer to you. He smelled of expensive hair product and cologne. You resisted the urge to bare your teeth and growl. It startled you, but you still accepted his offer of a handshake. His hand was soft and warm, but the touch of his skin made yours crawl, like you had just stuck your hand in cobwebs. As soon as it was socially appropriate, you retracted yourself from his grasp.

“This is Detective Touta Matsuda,” Light introduced, gesturing to the pup of a man who had spoken to you first.

He was eager and open, seemingly genuinely excited to meet you. He had the fresh scent of a minty aftershave, and, though pleasant, it was almost too powerful for your sensitive nose. “Please, just call me Matsuda.”

“Matsuda,” you repeated. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You stepped back when you could. His scent was much less overwhelming from farther away.

You turned expectantly to the third figure.

Your heart jumped into your throat.

At first glance, he had an eerie face, like a pale revenant peering at you from the shadows. Pale… wasn’t even the word for it. His skin was nearly translucent in its whiteness, and you could see the spiderwebbing of dark veins under his skin on his neck and just under his sharp jaw. His hair, wild and thick and black, made a distinct contrast, like chiaroscuro, to his skin.

Fathomlessly dark eyes blinked at you. The skin around them was bruised with insomnia.

“Hello,” you greeted, and only years of practice allowed you to smile semi-normally.

You only received a nod in response. He seemed to still be observing you. He lifted one foot to itch his leg with it.

Detective Light Yagami sighed, and you glanced over at him. He was glaring hotly at the third man. “You could _at least_ introduce yourself.” Light smiled sheepishly back to you. “Sorry, he’s normally quite the chatterbox.”

The chuckle that huffed from your lungs was airy with disbelief. You would have believed he was a mute feral man if Light had told you as much.

“Well, it’s still nice to meet you,” you said, a more subdued smile on your lips. You extended your hand for a shake and stepped closer.

He met you halfway, and though you expected him to shuffle with the way his shoulders were hunched forward, he made neat, quiet steps. A cloying sweetness hung around him – not the artificial aroma of a shampoo or a cologne, but as if that was simply his natural scent, like he excreted sugar from his pores. This much closer to him, you could tell he’d be Light Yagami’s height if only he straightened his posture, and, as such, had large, long, slender hands. Pretty hands with defined knuckles and tendons. Your cheeks flushed with heat at the thought.

His hand was surprisingly warm in yours, and you gave it a firm shake or two before withdrawing. Every little brush of finger and palm ensued a breathless jolt up your arm.

“Detective Lawliet,” he said, monotonous.

This man seemed to be an endless font of surprises – his voice was deeper than you’d expect for his thin build. He reminded you of a boy you went to high school with – Alejandro, who was short and thin but with a striking baritone voice. Last you knew he was living in California with a gorgeous wife and two beautiful children.

You shook the random thoughts away. The day after the full moon, you were always too easily distracted by the most random subjects.

“French?” you asked, suddenly unsure what to do with your hands. You set them on your hips and drummed your fingers on your scrubs.

Another nod. “Paternal grandfather was, yes.” He’d hardly spoken, but, so far, you couldn’t detect the slightest traces of an accent. He was either a native speaker or had learned English from a very young age.

“Well, it seems you three want to discuss some official business.” You gestured over your shoulder. “Let’s go to my office.”

* * *

Your office was hardly large enough to fit one guest comfortably, let alone three. You sank into your desk chair and carefully set aside a few organized piles of paperwork. You frowned at a file for a moment. That was in the wrong place. You quickly spun around in your chair to open a file cabinet and stow it away.

“Sorry, today was supposed to be my day off. I wasn’t here this morning to sort through last night’s files,” you murmured, turning back to the three detectives. They were crammed uncomfortably in front of your desk, all standing. Well, Detective Matsuda and Detective Yagami were uncomfortable. Detective Lawliet’s expression seemed to be rather unchanged. “And pardon the tight space. As you can see, this area isn’t really designed for accommodating guests.”

“It’s fine, Doctor,” Detective Yagami replied, though the twitch of his eyebrow told you it was not fine.

You huffed to hide a sly chuckle. “Well, you mentioned that you are here to ask me about a case you are working on, and I’m guessing you’re working on the… killings,” you said, your tongue souring on the last word.

“Yes, we are,” Yagami nodded, pulling out his pen and notepad. “It mentions in the case files that you acted as a consultant for the cases for a year and a half starting six years ago.”

You puffed out your cheeks. “Yes, I did. I believe all the information I provided was listed in some reports somewhere…?”

“They were,” Matsuda replied. “We’re just going through everything again to see if there was anything the police might have missed.”

You nodded, leaning back in your desk chair, rubbing your chin in contemplation. That was quite a while ago, and you weren’t even sure of all the details you had given the police. It was quite the predicament – you had to supply them with information while pretending not to know everything you knew.

That you knew _everything_.

That _you_ were the killer.

That you were a monster.

“Yes, I was pulled into the investigation after the second…? Yes, the second time animals were found dead. They wanted me to see if I could identify what sort of animal would be capable of such attacks.”

“And what did you deduce?”

You shook your head. “Nothing from around here, that’s for sure. The tracks were too narrow to be bear tracks. Though bears haven’t been seen in this area since before even I was born,” you said. You could tell from the looks on their faces that this was all information that they had heard before. You didn’t mention the fact that you _had_ seen a bear – a dead one, the day after one of your transformations that had gone wrong. You had killed it during the night. “I’m not exactly an expert in exotic animals, either, though I have had a few as patients over the last couple of years.”

Yagami arched an eyebrow.

You waved dismissively. “Crazy old guy that lived by the lake. Had a couple of lions, a bear, a tiger or two. He died sometime last year. All of his animals went to a sanctuary a couple of hours south of here.”

“ _All_ of the animals?” Lawliet asked. It was the first time he’d spoken since introducing himself, and it nearly startled you at the reminder that he was even there.

You nodded. “ _All_ of them. I was there to make sure they got them all. I had kept close tabs on the exact number of his animals any time I had to go out there and do a checkup. He had all the legal papers for them, but people like that don’t always stop at legal means when it comes to getting the animals they want. It’s some kind of status symbol for them.” You shook your head. “Can’t say I agree with it, but I gave those animals the best care I could, anyways.”

Lawliet hummed thoughtfully. His dark eyes were on you, but he seemed to be staring _through_ you, so deep in his musings. “What was the likelihood that he kept any of his animals a secret?”

“Low,” you replied, “though possible. The crew that came to pick up the animals gave his property a thorough search. Again, the possibility that any animals were left there is incredibly small.” You sighed, threaded your fingers together and set them on your knee. “Though any possibility is possibility enough for it to have happened. Murphy’s Law, and all of that."

It didn’t. You knew for certain that no animals were left behind. You would have been able to smell them.

And some well-hidden thought of yours was bitter and sour at the thought that the blame for your actions was being pinned upon an innocent animal – an animal that didn’t technically exist, but the thought remained.

“And would any of those animals been capable of killing someone in the manner that these people have been killed?”

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. They could, or they couldn’t, but you knew that they _didn’t_. “Again, I’m no expert on exotic animals. I just gave them general health care.”

Detective Lawliet blinked down at you, his head tilting one way, his dark hair draping down to brush the shoulder of his thick winter jacket.

Detective Yagami cleared his throat. “What do you think are the possibilities that someone trained an animal to carry out these murders?”

“Like an attack dog?” you asked with a snort. That was a new one. “I don’t think anyone around here would be capable of something like that. No one that I interact with, anyway.” Lawliet’s lips parted, and you raised a hand matter-of-factly. “Which is just about everyone. For the most part. The seasonal residents, not so much.”

“Seasonal residents?” Matsuda echoed.

“Yes. Some people from the city have property along the lake. They sometimes stay there for a couple of weeks in the summer.” You waved a hand. “It’s unlikely to be one of them – the killings years ago stretched out all year round, so I doubt it was a seasonal.” _Because it was me_.

“You have been living here a while, correct?”

“Yes, seven years,” you murmured, nearly in shock at the thought of it. Seven years you have owned the clinic here, and six years you have been a werewolf. “Time sure flies,” you whispered, mostly to yourself.

“And have you noticed any odd behavior? Any strange occurrences?” Yagami asked, gazing down at you over the edge of his little notepad. His eyes were sharp, unnerving. In the way that made it feel like you had little spiders crawling under your skin.

“Nothing.” You raised a shoulder. “Well, besides the obvious.”

“Did you know any of the victims personally?”

It had been a steady ambient hissing, but now it was crashing against the confines of your brain in an awful roar – guilt, crushing and massive. “Yes,” you choked out around the pointy lump in your throat.

You did. Some were even regulars at the clinic.

And you had slaughtered them without the slightest trace of mercy.

“Several—” Your voice cracked, and you coughed and cleared your throat, your face hot with guilt and embarrassment and sorrow. “—Several had pets that were my patients.”

“The livestock killings, too?”

You nodded mutely, blinking back the hot, stinging tears in your eyes. For some of the cows that had been killed, you were present for their birth, and some of them you’d even helped pull from the birth canal.

Yagami nodded, jotting whatever on his pad. Those sharp eyes were back on you.

“Thank you for your help. We may or may not be back to ask for your help again,” he said, polite, a smile focused on you. But the edge of a dagger hid beneath the curl of his lips, and you felt your mental hackles raise.

You realized with a jolt – a predator could always recognize another predator.

_Something was not right with this man._

You stood slowly. “Let me see you out,” you murmured. It was probably some silly savage instinct that was too close to the surface due to your condition, but you did not want this man in your territory without your supervision.

You led the three men out of your office, down the hall of the clinic.

Detective Matsuda tentatively called your name.

You looked over your shoulder. Immediately, your eyes were snared in dark ones staring back, but you were quick to flick your gaze to the man who had addressed you.

“You have a degree in animal behavior…” he started slowly.

You turned your eyes back forward.

“How much do you know about cat behavior?” he asked shyly.

“Quite a bit,” you said with a chuckle. “Have one of my own back home, too.”

“Okay. Can I ask you a question?”

You were now at the counter just before the door to the waiting room. You paused there to turn and meet his eyes. “Go ahead.”

“So my cat will um,” he paused, probably to think of an appropriate English term. “… rub herself on me…?”

You nod. A petty part of you was smirking internally to see Detective Yagami’s eyebrow twitch with irritation.

“And when I go to pet her, she’ll try to bite or claw me. I don’t understand. She makes me think she wants affection, and then she’ll try to attack me.” He frowned, looking obviously heartbroken at the notion.

You resisted the urge to coo at him – he reminded you far too much of a puppy for his own good. “Well, you seem to be having a gap in communication. She wants to be fed, not pet. Cats are especially expressive – if you know what to look for, that is. As the more intelligent of the two species and as her caretaker, it is _your_ responsibility to learn how to bridge that gap in communication and learn the difference between her asking you to feed her and her asking you to give her affection.” You shrug. “My cat makes eye contact when he wants to be given affection. Not so much when he wants to be fed. Since each animal is as unique as any one person, this of course may not apply to your cat. Just be more attentive and observant, and you’ll learn her tells eventually.”

“Oh,” he breathed, then beamed happily. “Thanks, Doc!”

“Of course, Matsuda.” You couldn’t help the friendly smile stretching across your face. Matsuda seemed like a good man – you couldn’t _not_ like him. He reminded you of Davis.

You’d take a bullet for Davis.

Detective Yagami’s jaw ticked – perhaps undetectable to any other person, but you saw it. “Well, I think it’s time for us to go,” he said, and you opened the door for them politely.

They passed in a cloud of muddled, mixed scents. That natural sweetness was drowned out by artificial aromas. You huffed in disappointment.

The other two were already ambling to the door, but Detective Lawliet stopped by the reception desk to grab a small lollipop from the jar on the edge.

He was rifling through them – perhaps to find the right flavor, but he was looking at you through the corner of his eye.

“You know, you made a fatal mistake in your assessment,” he said, monotonous.

You pursed your lips, crossed your arms, and leaned against the door jamb. “And what is that?”

“You assumed that Matsuda is more intelligent than his cat,” he deadpanned, turning to meet your gaze.

Your lips parted, and you felt it bubbling up, trembling in your diaphragm, and you couldn't stop it when you threw your head back to laugh heartily. It peeled out of you for a couple of short breaths before you managed to contain it, your hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m a horrible person who loves mean humor,” you admitted through remaining giggles and shaking shoulders.

Suddenly, those dark, fathomless eyes sparkled with new vitality, and you couldn’t look away from the way the corners of his lips tipped up into the slightest closed-lipped smile. A shock of awareness licked up your spine for every second that he remained making eye contact with you, but then it was suddenly torn, leaving you with warm cheeks when he turned his attention back to the lollipop jar. It seemed he settled on a cotton candy flavored one.

“Take two,” you murmured, nudging the butterscotch candy he had been mulling over. “You earned it with that sick burn.”

“L…” Detective Yagami drawled, and you glanced over at them.

‘L’? Must be a nickname, you surmised.

Detective Lawliet hummed, tucked the second lollipop in his pocket, and turned to amble his way out, the white stick of the first candy protruding from his lips and his hands folded into his jacket pockets.

“I guess I’ll see you three around,” you called after them with a slight wave. Matsuda eagerly waved back, Yagami gestured with a lazy, elegant wrist, and Lawliet looked over his shoulder with the faintest of smiles.

They exited the clinic, and the bell tinkled softly behind them.

“Detective Yagami sure is gorgeous,” Kirsten sighed from behind you.

You glanced over at her.

She had her chin in her hand, and she was gazing dreamily at the door. You snorted at the glazed-over look in her eyes.

“He’s okay, I guess,” you murmured. He had the face of an angel, but you knew something dark lurked within that man. “I think he had a ring, though, Kirsten.”

“Ugh,” she grimaced, arm slumping down onto the countertop. “All the good ones are taken.”

“I’m single!” Davis called from where he was rifling through a shelf just a yard or so away from where Kirsten was sitting.

Kirsten rolled her eyes. “You’re married to your job.”

You shook your head at the two.

“You’re no better, Doc,” Kirsten pouted.

You patted yourself down – wallet, keys, check, check. “I didn’t say I was.”

“At least Davis was doing the online dating for a little while,” she muttered. “I’ve _never_ seen or heard of you dating. Ever.”

“I don’t have time for that kind of stuff,” you replied. “I’ll be back later tonight to keep an eye on Paisley. Don’t cause too much trouble, you two.”

Kirsten sighed at your retreating back. “I just want her to be happy,” she sighed to Davis.

He hummed, finally finding the box of latex gloves that fit his hands. “I think she is.”

“I dunno…” She shook her head and went back to electronically filing paperwork.

You climbed back into your car. Your hands rested over the steering wheel. You stared sightlessly out of the windshield, and it was a mindless motion when you turned the keys in the ignition.

The house waiting for you was empty but for Lurk, and a hollow pang echoed through your chest.

You weren’t happy. You were lonely. You _wanted_ human companionship.

But that was too dangerous. You’d hurt enough people – even strangers. You couldn’t handle hurting – _killing_ – someone you loved.

With a heavy sigh that made your lungs ache, you backed out of your parking spot and headed home.

* * *

“I don’t trust that woman,” Light muttered as they drove to the next location. “Something seems off about her.”

“Do you think she’s a suspect?” Matsuda asked, frowning.

“Anything’s possible at this point,” Light replied. “What do you think?” He glanced over to the passenger seat.

But L wasn’t paying attention.

The passing scenery flickered in dark eyes. He idly shifted the lollipop stick between his lips.

Peeling laughter echoed in his ears.

* * *

He pressed his fingertips to the wound as he looked in the mirror. It was healing quickly, but he was drawn to the sight of it. The deep puncture marks dotted his skin, wrapped around his bicep. He grinned tightly, stared down at it, squeezed it to feel a dull, throbbing pain.

He’d finally encountered it.

Now he just needed to find out _who_ it was.

His chuckle was sharp and broken.

It should be an easy task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wut?! There wasn't much reader/L interaction, but trust me, once this snowball gets rolling, it'll really get rolling. Not to brag, but I'm pretty good at writing sexual tension XD anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and, if you didn't, tell me why! <3 see ya next time.


	4. The Lead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with another update! Shout-out to the lovely readers who have left kudos and comments for me <3

The red, puffy swelling was fading, but some of the skin was skill inflamed and irritated. Thankfully, you had enough skill and precision to remove the quills without too much tearing, despite the microscopic barbs at the end of each modified hair.

Paisley was sleepy from the sedative you had given her just an hour earlier – the threat of shock was much lower now, and the dog needed comfort in her injured state. You checked the IV. Her antibiotics were now being given intravenously to continue to ward off the threat of infection.

You soothingly petted her back, dug your nails in gently toward her hips, down to where her tail would have started, if she had one.

“Poor puppy,” you murmured.

Davis was just finishing up, getting ready to go home for the evening. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay instead?” he asked, leaning into the kennel room.

You glanced up at him. A reassuring smile settled on your lips. “I’m sure, Davis. Go home, get some rest.”

“You need rest, too, Doc,” he huffed.

“I’ll be fine,” you asserted with a laugh. You probably wouldn’t be able to sleep, anyway.

After all, when you had gone home earlier in the day, you’d spent most of the time pacing. All these years, it had felt like there was a noose around your neck. Never causing harm but always reminding you how close you were to the edge. Now, you could feel it tightening. These three detectives were thorough. It was only a matter of time before they found that one sliver of evidence that would condemn you.

At least here, you could do something useful – watch over your overnight patients (especially Paisley), file paperwork, and maybe do some other odd and end jobs that had been put off for too long.

“Okay.” Davis still sounded wholly unconvinced.

You shooed him away with an exaggerated expression of annoyance and a rolling wave. “Go home. Go to bed.” Though it was only eight in the evening.

“Okay, _mom_ ,” he drawled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” you replied, singsong, and you petted Paisley as you listened to Davis gather his stuff, leave the building, and start his car. It wasn’t too long before the sound of his engine faded away. You did a quick check-in with the other overnight patients in the kennel room before you decided to wander into your office.

A gasp rattled from your lungs when the phone at the reception desk peeled away with its shrill ringing. You frowned but made haste to reach it before the ringing could stop.

You greeted the unknown caller with your clinic’s name, your own name, and a “How can I help you this evening?” all in the most cordial customer service tone.

“It’s Detective Lawliet.” That deep, monotonous voice seemed so intimately close through the phone’s speaker, and a shiver jolted down your spine.

“Hello, Detective Lawliet,” you responded. You managed to maintain your polite tone rather well. “A bit late to be making an appointment for your pet, Detective,” you murmured good-naturedly.

A humming chuckle. It felt like it was right in your ear, and it made your nerves twinge in an almost ticklish manner. “No, that’s not why I’m calling. Matsuda is all caught up on his vaccinations, after all.” Less monotonous, more lilting, humorous.

You giggled into your hand. “That’s horrible. Matsuda seems like a good man.”

“A good man, yes. A bright one? Well, I’ll let you make your own observations on that one.” He took a deep breath, and you heard every second of it with such explicit detail, you could almost imagine the air moving beside your ear. The chair squeaked when you squirmed in it. “We want to go to the property that used to belong to Randy Holmes tomorrow morning. We would also like to request that you accompany us.”

You pursed your lips. Randy Holmes. You hadn’t mentioned him by name when they questioned you earlier that day. He was the man who had owned the exotic animals up by the lake. It seemed they weren’t going to take your word for it. If you were one of them, you probably wouldn’t, either.

No stone unturned, and all that jazz.

“One moment,” you murmured, and Detective Lawliet gave an assenting hum. You turned in the chair to log onto the computer and check the schedule. Nothing Davis couldn’t handle on his own. “Ah, I can be available until about eleven in the morning. Got some house calls to do after that.”

“You make house calls?” Detective Lawliet’s voice was stained with curiosity.

“Yes, for livestock and other large farm animals. Got an abscess to remove on a mare,” you replied quietly. “Davis is a bit skittish around the big animals, so I definitely have to do those ones myself,” you muttered, mostly to yourself. You frowned. You needed to catch a few hours of sleep tonight if you could.

“Fascinating,” he replied. And it sounded genuine.

Your lips twitched, and you bit your lower lip nervously. “What time do you plan on venturing out?” you asked.

He hummed. “That’s a good question.”

You chuckled again.

The next time he spoke, it was away from the receiver, possibly with the phone tucked to his shoulder. Still, with your hearing, you could pick it up, though it was in Japanese. Detective Yagami’s voice replied, and it seemed that exasperation was an emotion that could be detected across languages. Detective Lawliet’s reply drawled, perhaps some sort of dry, witty response – you could only guess – and then Lawliet sighed audibly. “Pardon, Light has a habit of making impulsive decisions. He _pretends_ to put great thought into it –”

A scathing response from Detective Yagami.

“—But he _doesn’t_ ,” Detective Lawliet continued. “He says right before dawn.”

“Makes sense. That way we make it there at first light,” you murmured. It was but some clicking of keys into a search browser and you knew. “Dawn will be at seven forty-three tomorrow. It will take about twenty minutes to drive out there.”

“It’s a way’s away, then?” Detective Lawliet asked, back to monotony.

“Well, as the crow flies, not really,” you replied as you visualized the roads in your head. “But the town is elevated on this side of the valley. There’s a lot of winding, hilly roads to go down.”

“How difficult is it to traverse the valley on foot?”

“Some places would be daunting but for the experienced hiker.” Or the athletically inclined werewolf, apparently.

He hummed again.

“I am assuming you three made base at the sheriff’s department.”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to meet you there at seven o’clock tomorrow morning?” you asked.

“No, we’ll meet you at the clinic,” he replied after a thoughtful pause.

“All right.” Your knee bounced nervously. “I suppose I will see you in the morning, Detective Lawliet.”

“I suppose you will, Doctor,” and his voice dipped teasingly on that last word. Not to mock you but – your lips parted – _flirtatious_? But then the monotony was back, “Please do find some rest tonight. It seems you have quite the day ahead of you tomorrow.”

“You too,” you managed to get out as you blinked widely, eyes staring sightlessly at Kirsten’s sticky note pad.

He hummed, a final farewell, and then the line went dead.

You stared at the receiver.

What… had just happened?

You shook your head. You must have imagined that. Detective Lawliet seemed fond of witty banter, but he didn’t come across as the flirtatious type.

A sigh heaved from your lungs. Even if he was being flirtatious, you couldn’t afford to get close to him. Not when…

You stood. There was no point in thinking about this sort of thing. There was a simple answer that required no overthinking – you couldn’t get involved with _anyone_. Period.

There was work to be done, and it served as a good distraction for the first few hours of the night. You filed paperwork, organized the supply closet, and, all the while, periodically stopped in the kennel room to check on the patients. At one point, you had even fallen asleep at your desk, reclined back in your chair, feet up on the newly organized surface.

You blinked awake, and immediately checked the time. The minute hand was slowly rounding six, the hour hand poised just between twelve and one. A half an hour past midnight. You sighed, scrubbed your face with one hand, and tugged yourself out of your chair.

Paisley was propped up in her kennel, her snout resting on one of the bars on the door. Without her tail, the only sign of her excitement at your presence was her sudden panting. Still mildly sedated, her reaction was subdued, but she was happy and lucid, surprisingly.

“Hey there, Paisley girl,” you cooed, gently touching her back.

With her seemingly more awake, you didn’t want her on the IV – you’d rather her not tear it out and cause more harm than good – so you carefully removed it. You would give her the antibiotics and pain medication via pill when the effects of the intravenous ones wouldn’t interfere.

“Do you gotta go outside, Paisley?” you whispered. She hadn’t been taken to relieve her baser needs since before you arrived earlier that night.

You carefully slipped her into a harness – her collar would have rubbed at her wounds – and then you were outside in the small fenced-in area just back of the clinic. Paisley drowsily ambled about, but she still made the effort to thoroughly survey the area with her sensitive nose. You just stood there, held her leash, and let her go about her business on her time.

It was cold, you knew, but ever since the onset of your… condition, you didn’t feel the effects of the cold as you used to. You could wander out in freezing weather wearing only a thin sweater, sometimes even just a shirt. Now, you stood there in a worn t-shirt and jeans with a hole developing in the right knee.

The heat on the other hand, was even more unbearable to you.

You grimaced at the thought of summer. The falls, winters, and springs here were perfect to you now, but the summers in this area still got far too hot for your liking.

You playfully contemplated moving to Canada, or Alaska. Maybe when you retire. If you managed to live that long…

A tingle of awareness shot up your spine and tore you out of your musings. Your spine straightened, and you peered out at the dark forest stretching beyond the bounds of the fence.

Curse tonight’s cloud cover – without it, the light of the waning moon would have allowed you greater vision. The bright flood light behind you only helped the slightest. But even without being able to pry into the tangle of darkness beneath the barren branches, you could tell what this feeling was.

You were being watched.

You lifted your head, sniffed eagerly, but to no avail. All you could smell was cold and snow and dog urine. Whatever – or _whoever_ – was out there was downwind of you. Paisley, in her drug-induced haze, didn’t seem to notice, but you could feel that eerie tickle in your nerves and the tug in your gut. Your hackles raised, and your lips twitched in an urge to bare your teeth and snarl.

“Come on, girl,” you whispered, tugging on the leash. Paisley huffed but complied.

When she was comfortably back into her kennel, you peered out the window towards the yard. You saw nothing, and that tingling was gone, but now you were on edge.

You didn’t sleep any more that night.

* * *

Davis was back in at seven o’clock that morning. The scent of snow and wind came in with him.

“Morning, Doc,” he mumbled, swiping the slightest bit of snow off his shoulder.

You raised your mug in greeting. In all honesty, you could survive on little sleep (though sleep was very, very nice), but after the night you had, it seemed like today would require a lot of caffeine to see you through ‘til the end. And with how quickly your body metabolized chemicals, it would take a _lot_ of coffee to maintain that caffeine buzz. You hadn’t changed from your shirt and jeans into a fresh pair of scrubs yet (you figured you’d wait until after your excursion to the lake to do that), but you had eaten a small breakfast of toast an hour earlier. You always kept a spare set of hygiene products in your office for nights like these, so you were altogether ready for the day.

“How’s Paisley?” he asked. He naturally gravitated to the fresh pot of coffee to refill his thermos.

“She’s doing very well,” you replied. “She’s always got optimism going for her. I’m sure she could go home today.”

Davis shuddered. “The quills in the mouth always get me,” he muttered.

“I can’t imagine that it’s pleasant,” you replied. A grimace pulled at your lips. That was one thing you were very relieved about – so far, you hadn’t managed to tangle with a porcupine during one of your transformations gone awry. You could only imagine waking up to a face and mouth full of porcupine quills.

You sighed into your cup when you heard the purr of an engine as a car pulled into the parking lot. Must be the detectives.

“Well, Davis, Detective Yagami and company want me to join them on a little field trip to Holmes’ old place,” you said, setting your cup down in favor of picking up your jacket. “We shouldn’t be gone too long, but I will make sure I get back before my house calls are scheduled.”

“Oh, okay,” Davis replied.

“Everything’s all set for you. You just have to wait for the appointments to come in,” you continued, and the bell in the waiting room twinkled audibly as the door swung open.

“Thanks!”

“Mmhm,” and you were walking out of the staff room to the waiting room. “See you later.”

“Good luck!”

With one fluid motion, you had your coat on, and you gently closed the door behind you.

“Good morning, detectives,” you greeted quietly as you zipped up your jacket.

Detective Yagami looked as well put-together as he possibly could be, picture-perfect, in fact. He smelled of hair products and lotion. Perhaps it was just the nasty bias you were developing against the man, but everything about him came off as… vain. It was all too much, too good.

Perhaps he meant to hide the ugliness inside him behind a pretty face.

Matsuda looked clean and professional, but a tired haggardness lurked in the shadows of his cheeks and eyes. Still, cheer brightened the edges of his smile.

Then your eyes caught on Detective Lawliet’s. His shoulders still had a hunch to them, his hands in his pockets. It seemed to be his got-to position. Insomnia still bruised him about his eyes, and he looked just as pale as he had the night before.

“You look tired. Could I interest you in some coffee?” you asked, pausing in tugging on some worn leather gloves. “Detective Matsuda?”

He chuckled, rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. With the other, he held out a tumbler. “I wouldn’t mind a refill. Thank you.”

You carefully plucked the mug from his hands. “I will be back in just a moment.”

When you were back in the staff room, Davis was still there, nursing his drink.

“Wow, you’re back soon.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha,” you intoned with an eyeroll. You pulled off the lid of Matsuda’s tumbler and brought it up to your nose. You caught a hint of minty toothpaste from around the opening where he would put his lips. But, most of all, underneath that, you smelled sugar and cream… hazelnut creamer, specifically. Luckily for Matsuda, Kirsten often purchased the same stuff. You were sure she wouldn’t mind sharing a dash of it as you prepared Matsuda his coffee.

It was barely two minutes before you were back in the waiting room and handing off the tumbler. Matsuda mumbled something quiet in Japanese – perhaps a ‘thank you’ that he had forgotten to translate in his grogginess.

Detective Yagami was tense and antsy, his impatience barely contained. You resisted the urge to leer at him in a rather childish, petty manner.

Instead, you addressed them as a group. “I’m sure, as you have noticed, there is little cell service out here, and GPS also does not work as it normally should.” You finally pulled on your gloves, wiggling your fingers as they slid into worn leather. “That being said, I think our best course of action would be that you follow me to the property.” You paused a moment. “Actually, how much did it end up snowing last night?”

“A few inches,” Detective Lawliet replied. It was the first time he’d spoken all morning, and it brought the memory of his voice in your ear over the phone the night before. You hid a shiver.

“Mm, they often get to the back roads last, so –” You sighed, eyes rolled up thoughtfully. “—the roads by the lake are probably a mess right now.”

“Your point being…?” Detective Yagami drawled, a hand gesturing impatiently.

“Your car will get stuck in the snow,” you replied with an arched brow. “My vehicle has four-wheel drive. It’ll get through it, no problem.”

“We have a lot of equipment that we want to bring,” Matsuda said.

“And I have a lot of trunk space.” You gestured with a lazy wrist. “You can do what you want, I guess, but this, from my experience, is the best course of action.”

Detective Lawliet hummed. “It sounds like a plan to me.”

Matsuda agreed around his mug.

Yagami’s jaw ticked, but he conformed with a stiff nod.

“All right, then,” you said. “Let’s go, shall we?”

* * *

It wasn’t all that much that they needed packed into the spacious trunk area of your vehicle; it all fit evenly alongside your own veterinary equipment and emergency supplies (in case you or someone else got stuck in the snow).

You climbed into the driver’s seat, and when the front passenger door opened, you turned your head to see who climbed in next to you.

A snarl burned on the tip of your tongue and on the edges of your lips, but you hastily bit it back. Detective Light Yagami met your eyes with a steady gaze.

You faced the windshield and started the car. You immediately turned your music down – what was probably indistinct murmur to them was still loud enough for you to clearly hear the lyrics. 

“Ready?” you asked, peering into your rearview mirror to get a glimpse of your other two passengers. You froze in your seat. Matsuda was sitting very straight as he sipped at his coffee, but Lawliet…

He was _crouched_ in the seat, his shoes off and baring worn socks with holes near the toes, his knees brought to his chest.

You pursed your lips at him.

“Pardon him,” Detective Yagami drawled. “He’s got the most uncouth sitting habits.”

“I don’t care how he sits,” you began, and then slightly louder on the next phrase, “but we are not going anywhere until he puts his damn seatbelt on.”

He blinked at you, and the corners of his lips twitched around a smile, but he complied.

When you heard the click, you put the vehicle into gear.

Regretfully, you had to turn on the heater for your passengers, and the increase of warmth accentuated their scents clashing in the cab of your car. You breathed shallowly through your nose.

Your vehicle was perfect for these wintry conditions, and you turned smoothly onto the road and began your journey to the lake.

“How many animals did Holmes have that you were aware of?” Lawliet asked when you rolled up to a stop sign.

A hum resonated on your breath. This way, that, no one was coming, and you crossed. “Right before he died… three Siberian tigers; a liger; two lions, a male and a female; a black bear; three wolves; and two wolf-dogs,” you replied. “He’d just sold his cougar a couple of months before he passed away.” You took a quick glance in the mirror to meet his dark eyes. “That same number of animals was collected when he died.” You drummed your fingers on the steering wheel. “I would like to note that Randy Holmes did not have any big cats on his property until after the first series of killings ended.”

“Noted.” From your peripheral vision, it looked as though Detective Yagami was literally making note of it. “Did any of his animals seem aggressive?”

“For being non-domesticated animals, they were rather well-mannered,” you replied. “I personally didn’t have any problems with them.” Of course, they could all sense that you were an apex predator and made sure to do nothing to possibly incur your wrath. But you didn’t tell the detectives that. “Randy didn’t seem to, and neither did any of his helpers.”

“Helpers?” Matsuda echoed.

“Yes. His brother and his nephew helped him take care of the animals. They had quite the little zoo on their hands, after all. They got donations from the county road commission, who gave them any roadkill they’d find while on the job. Which is quite a bit. Since the wolf population plummeted from European colonization however long ago, the deer population in this area is enormous. You can’t swing a stick around here without bumping into a whitetail.” The surge in whitetail numbers also caused a depletion of underbrush in certain areas, resulting in the extinction of several species of bird that built their nests on the ground. You left that detail out, though. It wasn’t relevant. You were now on a winding road that carved its way down into the valley, so you gently decelerated at first and then coasted down the snowy asphalt. “They’d also buy the undesirable meat from the beef processing plant south of town.” You lifted your shoulder in a minute shrug. “Either way, they got enough meat for the animals. They were all within healthy weight margins for their respective species.” Except for the liger. Ligers were prone to obesity, but that big gal had been just above the top margin – pretty good, all things considered. Of course, she’d had a plethora of other health problems due to her hybridization, but she was as healthy as a liger could ever be.

“Did they _ever_ have an incident with any of the animals?” Detective Yagami asked. His intense gaze was boring holes into the side of your face.

“Not to my knowledge,” you replied. “Which is altogether surprising. Wild animals will act like wild animals, of course. But there were never any reports of injury from Holmes or his helpers, so I assume that any commotion that may or may not have happened was mild enough not to warrant medical treatment. Neither for the people nor for the animals.” You sighed tightly. “Altogether, the probability that you will find anything is very low. But I guess any probability is probability enough to warrant investigation, especially if you have no other leads.”

The probability that they would find _anything_ was nothing. But you didn’t tell them that.

And then you were turning onto a back road. The dirt and sand and gravel surface was covered by a thick layer of packed snow and fresh powder that was still continuing to fall from the sky so gentle and dream-like. It was by no means a smooth ride – the vehicle swayed on its axles, but it steadfastly plowed onward with otherwise little trouble.

You chuckled as Detective Yagami grasped at the handle above the window with a grimace.

“Yup, your little car never would have made it through this mess,” you laughed, at ease despite the collective tension among your three passengers. “Randy really did live out in the middle of nowhere. Guess it was best not to have many neighbors when you have a collection of exotic animals.”

“Understandable that not many people would be willing to live out here,” Yagami gritted out.

You shrugged. “There are plenty of reclusive people out here. And some that just couldn’t survive in a crowded city.”

“And you?” Detective Lawliet asked from the back seat.

“It’s hard out here, but it’s a lot less hassle,” you replied. “I grew up in the city and wasn’t particularly fond of it.” You paused when the vehicle rocked, and you pressed a tad harder on the gas to power through a snow drift that was leaning out into the middle of the narrow road. “But it was still a little difficult moving out here. The quiet seemed oppressive. Then I realized it was just as loud, but in different ways.” You raised a shoulder. “Different was good.”

In all honesty, there were times that you missed the city. But you could never go back now. That was like asking for a disaster of even bigger proportions.

But maybe if you had stayed in the first place, things wouldn’t have turned out the way they were now.

You exhaled slowly, quietly through your nose as you turned into a derelict, overgrown driveway. The dead grass was still peeking up through the snow like skeletal sentinels of summers past. Thankfully with the tree cover, the snow wasn’t as dense, and the ride was altogether smoother from there on in.

“Well, we made it, boys,” you sang, slowing to a stop and shifting the vehicle into park.

Time to help them on their wild goose chase, you supposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the next chapter is where we actually start digging into the tender, juicy meat of this story. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this update, and if you didn't, don't be afraid to tell me why!


	5. The Paradox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little dense in some intellectual rambling on both L's and the reader's parts. Hope you guys don't mind it. If you do, don't be afraid to tell me -- this can be reviewed and rewritten, after all.

The air was crisp and cold and smelled of snow and barren trees. Before you, untouched snow sloped up in the gentlest of inclines toward a derelict cabin. The paint was peeling from the siding, the windows caked with grime, the wood of the deck warped from years of water damage beneath all that snow.

You sniffed a few more times discreetly. You could only smell the faint traces of animals – deer must have wandered close by late last night, but otherwise there was nothing else noteworthy. Still, you turned to crunch your way through the snow to help the three detectives unload their equipment from the back of your vehicle.

Though the cold of the snow hardly bothered you, you were glad to have worn your tall boots – in some places, the snow came well up to your shin. You slammed the trunk closed with nary a strained breath, and you looked over to the three detectives. “He had several pens and enclosures for the animals. To make the most of our time, I would suggest splitting up. Groups of two in case someone falls and gets hurt.”

They were bundled warmly in jackets, but Matsuda’s teeth still rattled as he hugged himself. “Good idea. Don’t really want to be out here long.”

You nodded in understanding. “Especially since you don’t seem to have the best footwear.” They had boots, but they were no way near tall enough to handle the deep snow. They would have wet socks for sure.

You wrinkled your nose privately. You were _not_ looking forward to having wet feet smell staining the inside of your vehicle.

You started off on your own, sure that on their own they would decide on who would be grouped with who. You didn’t care, just as long as you didn’t end up with Yagami. You couldn’t guarantee that you wouldn’t ‘accidentally’ knock him into a snowbank.

You didn’t bother listening to their conversation, though you could hear it, as you trudged up the crest to the snow-laden stairs. The surface of the snow dipped and rose in little hills – the wooden steps seemed to be greatly distorted, perhaps even broken in some places. You carefully stepped up, your gloved hand clutching the splintering railing. It was amazing how only two years of abandonment had left this house in such a state.

But here, the weather was harsh in its spectrum, from pounding rain and blistering heat to heavy snow and crippling cold. Few things could withstand such extremes. You paused at seeing little tracks across the surface on the fresh powder. Bird tracks. Cute.

Feet crunched in the snow behind you. Steps creaked. You glanced over your shoulder. Dark eyes snared your own, and you inhaled sharply.

“Doctor?” Detective Lawliet asked. Those eyes were sharp and inquisitive on your face.

You smiled. “Sorry. I was admiring these cardinal tracks. They have such cute little feet.”

His head tilted, and you had to look away from his eyes a moment. “Before that. What were you thinking about?”

You chuckled breathily, began to walk around to turn the corner on the wrap-around porch. “What do you mean?” Lawliet crunched after you.

“I saw your face when you were looking at the tracks. And I saw your face before that. They were very different expressions,” he noted. “I just find myself curious about what deserves such a profound look.”

“Hm, I was just thinking about how much this place has deteriorated since I’ve been here last,” you murmured, hand skimming along the snow on the porch railing.

“Feeling sentimental?”

“No,” you replied slowly, thoughtfully. “Just… philosophical, I guess.”

“What sort of philosophy?”

You smirked over your shoulder. “Are you profiling me, Detective Lawliet?”

He lifted his shoulders, his hands tucked firmly in his pockets, his lips quirked up into a small smile. “I profile everyone. Light was quite a bit of fun. He’s got a lot of little secrets hidden underneath the perfect surface.” Then, wry, humorous. “With Matsuda, well, what you see is what you get. A good quality but not very entertaining.”

You chuckled lightly, then picked your way down the back set of stairs into what was once Randy Holmes’ back yard. “And what do you think of me?”

“Oh, you’re definitely hiding something,” Lawliet deadpanned.

You laughed and hoped none of your nervousness bled through. You glanced back over your shoulder. “What, do you think I’m a suspect or something?”

“No, I don’t believe that at all,” he replied, entirely sincere, head tilting again, a gloved hand coming up to press a thumb against his pale lips. The motion seemed entirely thoughtless, like a reflex or a tic. “Everyone’s usually hiding something, as a matter of fact,” he murmured.

“Are you hiding something?” you asked, low, watching the leather swipe across his lower lip, press the blood from the surface layers until it rushed back after contact. Warmth coiled low in your belly.

“I’m not sure,” he murmured back, and you met his eyes again. “Do you think I’m hiding something?” His normally wide, thoughtfully blinking eyes seemed to narrow just the slightest bit, almost sleepy.

You knew that look, but not often directed toward you. Flirtatious invitation.

“Aren’t we all hiding something, Detective Lawliet?” you said back, stunned by the reflexive purr in your voice. “What makes you think you’re any different?”

His lips parted, and you heard his sharp breath, the deep inhale that straightened his posture with the force, and you smiled coyly and turned to complete your walk down the steps. Privately, you bit your lip. You hadn’t intended to play into his flirtations, but it was all too tempting.

“Right back here is where the first enclosure is,” you said, as if nothing had happened, though your heart was racing in your chest. “It had his wolfdogs.” You snorted, stepped up to the old hut and the reinforced chain-link fence surrounding a good bit of ground. “With his first wolfdog, he tried to have her live in the house with him.” You gestured to where pieces of fence were mismatched, obviously replaced. “But, it turns out that when you mix the vigor of a domesticated dog with the instincts of a wild wolf, it makes quite the destructive concoction.”

Lawliet was standing at your shoulder now. You glanced at him. His dark eyes surveyed the snow. “Wolfdogs are more difficult to handle than either wolves or dogs?”

“Generally. Wolves have predictable behavior – they behave, well, like wolves. And dogs behave like dogs. With wolfdogs, you get an unpredictable mixture with each animal. You never know what sort of animal you’re going to get.”

Lawliet grunted, low and quiet. “You know to treat the wolves like wolves and the dogs like dogs, but you don’t know how to interact with a wolfdog.”

“Exactly.” You turned to keep walking along the perimeter of the enclosure. “Some people get wolfdogs for the sake of having them but quickly realize it is nothing like raising a fully domesticated dog.” You gestured vaguely. “Dogs and wolves are actually the same species – they are biologically and behaviorally capable of breeding with one another, create viable offspring, and those offspring are not less fit in their environment than either of their parents. They meet all the requirements of a species shared. In fact, interbreeding happens quite often, especially in areas where wolf populations have been reestablished. But there has been so much genetic manipulation and selective breeding in domesticated dogs that they have become distinctly different creatures. Even breeds of dog vary so wildly from one another.” You looked over to him. He had been keenly observing the surroundings, but, at your pause, met your eyes.

“Please, do go on,” he said.

A smile ticked at your face. “There was an experiment performed by the Russians. They captured a population of wild foxes and kept them in captivity. They regularly went out to the kennels to test the animals’ reactions to humans, and they ended up splitting the original set of foxes into two groups – foxes that had a positive reaction to the humans and foxes that had a negative reaction to the humans.”

“They began to selectively breed the foxes that reacted well to humans,” Lawliet said.

“Have you heard of this?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“No, but it was the logical conclusion.”

You chuckled. “Yes, well, they also bred the foxes that didn’t react well to humans. Within a few generations, they had domesticated foxes and—” You paused to laugh. “—Russian attack foxes.”

“Better warn the CIA,” Lawliet drawled. “The Russians have attack foxes.”

“Genetically engineered to rip the face off any American who dares step near,” you jibed, mock serious. “Anyways, my main point is that if they were to breed the aggressive and the domesticated foxes together, the behavior the offspring would be totally erratic and unpredictable, or even the domesticated with wild foxes.”

You thought about your own state – sometimes, more wild animal than civilized human. You were both, but, at the same time, neither. You knew the beast inside you did not behave like a ‘wolf’ and neither did it behave like a ‘human.’ It was an unpredictable mixture of wolf and raw primate behavior that was not easily reconciled.

You weren’t wholly sure that the ‘beast’ wasn’t you – your everyday behavior was irreversibly changed; the two halves bled together, made one somehow indistinct from the other.

Just like wolfdogs were neither wolf, nor dog.

A brand-new entity spawned from an odious union.

“Another profound expression, Doctor. Privilege me with your thoughts,” Lawliet said from beside you.

“Just a paradox, I suppose,” you began slowly. It was unnerving how well he seemed to pin your otherwise unreadable face. “A concept of both and neither, that these two things can exist in one space. Wolfdogs are both wolf and dog, but, in their duality, they are neither dog nor wolf. And, slightly unrelated, that when you mix beast and pet, you simply get a stranger form of beast.”

“You think deeply and critically,” Lawliet commented. The warm tone gave it the distinct air of a compliment.

“Out here, one seems to get a lot of time to think,” you replied.

“Not everyone utilizes the time to think like we do.”

 _We_.

You could tell that Detective Lawliet was incredibly intelligent and possibly even a genius – his observant gaze and thorough questioning made that more than clear.

“I’m flattered that you think me to your level, Detective Lawliet.”

“Profiling is my specialty, and I know an intelligent person when I meet one…” He paused to cut you a firm stare. “And a perceptive one.”

You stopped in your tracks. “What do you mean?”

He tilted his head, his dark hair brushing down around his shoulder. “You know about Light.”

You were already standing still, but, at that, everything in you froze. “Beg your pardon?”

Lawliet smiled, somehow smug. “Don’t play dumb with me, Doctor. It doesn’t suit you.”

“I… did not realize that I was broadcasting my thoughts about him,” you muttered.

“Oh, you made a fatal mistake with that one,” Lawliet said. “If you really wanted to seem unaffected by him, you would pretend to be affected by him.”

“Charmed, you mean,” you said.

“Yes,” Lawliet confirmed, lifting a hand to press a thumb to his lower lip again. “Women are always enthralled by him. It’s suspicious when they aren’t.”

“Women can be not attracted to him,” you replied. “I know plenty of women who are into the rugged lumberjack types and don’t find the pretty boys particularly titillating.”

“Yes, but even those women don’t seem _wary_ of him. Again, you weren’t purposely broadcasting it, but you might as well have been. He _knows_ when his façade isn’t working.” He smiled, as if the concept were particularly fun. Which, for him, it might have been. “Light already despises people – he thinks of them as less than himself, especially those that he can successfully manipulate. But there are people that he hates more – the people he _can’t_ manipulate.”

“Should I pretend to be manipulated then?” you asked with a nervous chuckle.

“No, he’ll know something is off.”

You grimaced. “I knew there was something… wrong, but you make him sound like a psychopath.”

“I’ve done enough profiles to know how a psychopath behaves, and Light is a psychopath,” he confirmed, rather matter-of-factly.

You shivered. “Studies have shown that most people generally get a gut feeling about socio- and psychopaths. It’s a predator response instinct, and that’s exactly the feeling that he gives me. That I’m sharing space with a predator.”

“Yes, and Light has remarkable skill in hiding it behind charm and perfectly styled hair.” Lawliet’s slow, deliberate drawl made you chuckle. “I can’t say with any certainty whether other people generally get that gut instinct from Light, but, if they do, I _am_ certain that his spotless façade is generally enough to assuage their discomforts. Being so detached from his own emotions allows him the perfect chance to manipulate those of others. It renders regular people undeniably vulnerable to his whims.”

“He sounds dangerous,” you muttered, trailing your fingers along chain link as you crunched through snow.

“I don’t think he poses any physical threat to anyone.” His measured steps were in near perfect synchronization with yours. “Though anyone is capable of murder, Light would not be willing to get his hands dirty, or threaten the power he has now with the possibility of prison time and/or having his reputation smeared. However, he is more than willing to mentally and emotionally manipulate those around him and has a sadistic streak the likes of which I do not often see in even our suspects.”

You grunted.

“To sum it all up, Light toys with people because he is able to and because he can get away with it. In the end, it’s all a means of entertainment that also happens to stoke his massive ego.”

“I don’t like him even more now,” you said, sarcastically bright. “I suppose with your talent for profiling and the time I am guessing you have spent with him, you know him better than he knows himself.”

“That’s an accurate statement.”

“It sounds unpleasant, but from a nearly scientific, clinical standpoint he sounds like a very interesting person.”

“That is also an accurate statement,” Lawliet conceded. “He’s one of the most fascinating men I’ve ever met.”

You paused, your feet planted in the snow. The two of you had wandered past the edges of the wolfdog enclosure and were now standing in what you knew to be a snow-covered path winding between the pens. “Detective Lawliet,” you began wryly, “as much as I have enjoyed conversing with you, I think we may need to pay more attention to our surroundings.”

Lawliet hummed. “I have thought from the beginning that we weren’t going to find anything here, anyways, but since we have no other leads for now, it seemed like a better option than sitting and twiddling our thumbs.”

“You have no other leads,” you repeated, more to yourself than him.

“As of right now. We did take swabs from the wounds on the most recent victims, so we still hold some hope that they’ll come back with a clear result.”

“DNA samples,” you breathed. That… that was something you had hoped wouldn’t be checked. But if they didn’t compare any DNA found to yours, you weren’t in any danger. But there was still the fact that you weren’t even sure if the DNA you left behind in your beast form would be the same as the DNA from your human form. How far did the changes go when the full moon rose? Did you change on the molecular level, too? If the DNA changed for your transformation, did any you left behind change back when you did?

“Yes. We hope the analysis will lead us in a distinct direction. We are, after all, not sure whether the culprit is human or animal.”

The culprit was both, and neither. A paradox, a duality, a dichotomy.

You swallowed back your apprehension. If they had your DNA, there was nothing you could do about it now, and no point in worrying over predetermined events.

“And what do you think?” you asked, quiet, tilting your head back to enjoy the cool, calming breeze.

You felt his dark gaze on you. “For once, I don’t know what to think. Nothing adds up. Generally, two plus two equals four, but it feels like the math is written in a language I don’t know.”

You glanced back over at him. “Maybe you’re doing the wrong kind of math.”

Everything added up… but the explanation was beyond what any sane investigator could probably come up with on their own.

“Maybe it’s less like basic algebra and more like theoretical physics,” you murmured.

“What do you mean?” he asked, genuinely confused and sincerely interested in your thought process.

“I mean that you might have to look beyond the numbers and the variables and into the big picture. Einstein didn’t make any discoveries by doing the math everyone else knew.”

He hummed. “You’re saying we may need to think outside of the box. I assure you; it is something that we are very used to doing. You wouldn’t believe the sort of murders we have solved, the kinds of killers we have caught.”

You certainly would believe it. There wasn’t much you wouldn’t believe anymore. “Maybe you were thinking outside of _that_ box. There are all kinds of boxes.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” he replied, slow and thoughtful.

“By thinking outside of that box, you’ve constructed a new box. You have created limits with your new knowledge, limits that you need to break through once again,” you continued, more thinking aloud than actually addressing him.

“I suppose that’s true,” he answered nonetheless, also seemingly lost in thought.

You shook your head at yourself. Here you were, counseling the detective assigned to the murders that _you_ committed. And it wasn’t bullshit advice, either.

“Though we may not have found anything out here, I have found your thoughts to be most insightful, Doctor,” Lawliet admitted.

You smiled at him, watched an answering smile echo on his face. “Thank you, Detective. I’m glad to be of some help.”

Both of your heads turned when Matsuda cried from a distance.

“Can you hear what he’s saying?” Lawliet asked, frowning.

You could, but you just shrugged as if you couldn’t.

They hadn’t found anything – Yagami thought this was a waste of time – they were ready to leave.

“I suppose we should go meet them,” you murmured, turning in your tracks.

“Do we have to?” A monotonous tone, but there was an underlying humor beneath it.

You shrugged playfully. “Not really – I have the car keys.” A shake of your pocket jingled your keys in emphasis. “They can wait out in the cold until we’re ready.”

“I’d be tempted to do it if it were only Light,” Lawliet muttered, finally turning to follow you.

You laughed, and your voice echoed off the snow-laden tree branches around you. “I thought you didn’t like Matsuda.”

“Oh, I like Matsuda well enough. But his lack of common sense makes him an easy target for mean-spirited jokes. He often just leaves himself wide open and walks face-first into it, and I seem to lack the self-restraint to keep my comments to myself.”

“Preying on the weak and vulnerable,” you snickered. “Detective Lawliet, are you sure _you_ aren’t a psychopath?”

“I’m fairly certain I’m not. There was a very small moment in time when I was younger that I worried that I was, but then I realized that psychopaths do not worry about whether they are psychopaths,” he answered frankly. “I nearly had an existential crisis over it before it occurred to me that I was just a bratty, angsty teenage asshole, not someone with a personality disorder.”

You laughed. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed so much. “And now?”

“Now I’m a bratty, angsty adult asshole.”

“Really? You see, I didn’t get that sort of impression from you,” you answered, cutting him a sly glance.

“Oh? And what impression did you get?”

“Just a plain old asshole,” you deadpanned, monotone in your best impression of him.

At first, the sound that rumbled in his throat was choking with disbelief, and then it was louder, unleashed, a laugh, and you glanced over at him to see him laughingly gaping at you in surprise.

You pursed your lips and shrugged. “You walked right into that one, Detective.”

“I did, didn’t I?” and he continued with his soft laughter. It was an altogether quiet, breathy laugh, and the way it creased his face like paper folded for the first time made you think that it wasn’t a noise or expression that he made all that often.

You breached the crest of the small hill. Yagami and Matsuda were leaning on the side of the car.

Yagami’s face was blank, but his eyes showed clearly his annoyance. “Well, I’m glad you two had _fun_ with our little field trip.”

“Oh, thank you, Light. I really did enjoy myself,” and though Lawliet seemed to be trying to do his characteristic drawl, his tone was light and trembling with laughter.

You bit back your smile and simply prepared yourself for the drive back.

It scared the shit out of you to admit it, but you had the time of your life that morning.

It wasn’t Light Yagami you had to worry about…

… Lawliet was the dangerous one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, our snowball is finally pushed off. This is just the beginning of its descent. I'm very excited for it to get huge and careen out of control P;
> 
> Some mutual flirtations and bonding over loving their work. This chapter wasn't heavy in plot, but it laid out a lot of needed groundwork for coming chapters. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed it <3 I'll see you later!


	6. The Consultant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank my new beta-reader who took the time to look this over for me <3 I won't mention any names since I never received permission to do so, but, if you end up reading this after I post it, you know who you are!
> 
> I also want to thank all of the beautiful people who have left me comments and kudos so far! You guys blow me away <3 you're all so supportive and I love it!

Light slammed the phone in the cradle. Japanese curses hissed on his lips, and he raked a hand through his hair, shoulders tense. L, with the butt of a pen pressed against his lips, frowned over at him.

“I can’t believe the incompetence of these Americans!” Light spat, teeth gritting, jaws clenched so visibly that L’s own face ached with sympathy. “They haven’t even  _ started _ processing our samples yet. It’s the  _ only fucking evidence we have _ .” He stood abruptly, his chair rolling violently back behind him. His palms slammed hard on the desk surface, and he trembled with the effort not to swipe everything off it in a fit of unbridled rage.

L frowned more deeply. DNA samples already took a long time to process – a DNA polymerase reaction needed some time to produce enough replicated DNA to even use for testing, and then, depending on what method they used, the electropheresis test could take a day or two as well.

So far, it was the only real lead they had, and the sooner the results came back, the better. For all they knew, the culprit had hightailed it out of town when they heard about the new investigators on the case.

The door opened, and Matsuda came through, a clipboard tucked under one arm. The other hand was rubbing at the back of his neck. A puzzled expression creased lines of his face.

“Hey, you guys, we’ve been getting several calls from the anonymous tip hotline,” he said, lowering himself into a creaking desk chair, the clipboard clattering onto the desk.

L hummed. Most of the tips had been useless so far – detailing things they already knew, or things that had no connection whatsoever to the case at hand. Even the occasional confession – none of which could be substantiated.

Matsuda sniffed, flipped through the pages on his clipboard. “There was one I think you would both find pretty interesting.”

L caught at the chapped skin on his upper lip with his teeth. He motioned for Matsuda to go on.

“It sounded like a middle-aged woman, and she called in to tell us that all of the attacks happened on nights when the moon was full. She rambled on about monsters and stuff, but I thought that that piece of information could be important for profiling a suspect.”

L leaned forward against his folded knees and snapped open his laptop. The dates of all the attacks were listed on the whiteboard, and he quickly went online to pull up a lunar calendar to compare.

The deaths three nights ago… on a full moon. The deaths a month ago… on a full moon. Month by month, all the way until the beginning of the most recent string of deaths, the pattern continued with unerring consistency. Fortunately, the website he was using allowed him to go all the way back to six years ago… and it was all the same. The killings all happened on the night of a full moon.

“It’s true,” L mumbled, thumb digging into his lower lip. “But what does it mean?”

“Aren’t there Western tales about werewolves coming out on the full moon?” Matsuda asked, blinking widely as he came around to peer at the screen over L’s hunched shoulder.

“… Yes.” L suddenly leaned back in his chair. Matsuda in his surprise jumped back and nearly knocked over a potted plant. L didn’t notice that, and he didn’t consciously notice the feeling of his canine scraping against the pad of his thumb. “Of course, I highly doubt that our suspect is a werewolf.  _ But _ our suspect may  _ think _ he is one…” It wasn’t too far fetched – the Wolfman did not believe himself to be a werewolf, but he did think himself to be an apex predator, and they’d also had a case three years ago where a man had believed that his was cursed to be a vampire, and another that sacrificed his victims to his dark pagan gods in gruesome rituals.

“Then what about the time gap?” Matsuda asked.

Light decided to join the conversation. “It could be as simple as medication – he could’ve started taking medication to help with his mental illness, and then in the last six months went off of them, resulting in a second psychotic break.”

L breathed out, long and heavy, through his nostrils. “He could have also believed for that time that he had his… condition under control. Sometimes, you just have to believe, and then the smallest thing could have reverted him back to killing.”

“I guess that makes it less likely that our killer is just an animal,” Matsuda mumbled.

“It does. But it doesn’t eliminate the possibility. The only thing that will do that is the DNA evidence.” L pressed his knuckles against his mouth. His breath puffed out hotly over the back of his hand.

“DNA evidence that isn’t being processed yet…” Light hissed.

“It is quite inconvenient,” L replied, mumbling around his fist.

L wasn’t sure yet what this new information truly meant, but he was sure it shouldn’t take long to find out.

Luckily, he had an expert to consult.

* * *

It was a break between appointments, and you greedily gulped down your bottle of water in the staff room. You listened half-heartedly to Davis' and Kirsten’s conversation.

“I’m just saying, it’s sad what happened. I know what it feels like to lose a loved one, and I get that there’s generally some anger involved with grief, but I still think it’s really stupid of her to be complaining about the fact that she can’t sue the hospital. There’s always a risk involved with every procedure, and I know for a fact that they had her sign a consent form before they ever laid a single gloved finger on the patient. I guarantee that the consent form listed the risks involved with the procedure. It’s not the hospital’s fault that she didn’t read it—”

Davis was interrupted mid-rant by the shrill wailing of the desk phone.

Kirsten was quick to pick it up and answer – she generally was, but this seemed to be a bit on the hasty side.

You understood – Davis’ rants could be a bit much at times. (Not that your random rambling biology lectures were much better.)

“Detective Lawliet?” Kirsten repeated after her usual greeting.

Your spine immediately straightened, and had you been mid-drink, you probably would have choked.

“I’ll ask her if she has time. She might be preparing for her next appointment. Yes, just a moment. I’m going to put you on hold, okay?” The phone clicked into its cradle, and then Kirsten’s fast, light steps were sounding down the hall. You looked over your shoulder as she appeared in the doorway. “Detective Lawliet would like to do a consultation on the case over the phone if you have time, Doc.”

You glanced at the clock, mostly for show. A nod. “Yes, I should have time. Transfer the call to my office.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she chirped. She scurried back down the hall. You quickly refilled your water bottle and marched to your office. A little green light on the phone blinked. You closed the door behind you and sat at your desk.

The receiver felt cold against your ear. “Hello, Detective Lawliet.”

“Hello, Doctor,” he murmured back. Again, his low tone made it feel like he was inches from your ear. You wrapped your hand around the arm rest tightly to keep yourself from squirming. “How did your house calls proceed yesterday?”

“No incidents. I didn’t get crushed by a horse, so I consider the whole venture a success,” you replied with a light chuckle. “But I have a feeling that you didn’t call me for some small talk, Detective.”

A disappointed grunt. “What, I can’t be interested in a chat with you?”

You only laughed in response.

“Unfortunately, you are correct. I wanted to ask a few questions regarding animal behavior.” You could hear the smile bleeding through his tone. “We can save any further intellectual discussions for afterward.”

“Sounds like a deal, Detective.” If you had time after his questions.

“Does the nocturnal activities of animals increase around the full moon?”

You froze.

“Doctor…?” he called, and you shook yourself out of it.

“That’s a strange question to ask.”

“Not entirely,” Lawliet murmured. “Though I suppose I should have introduced the context first. We received an anonymous tip which we have confirmed. All the killings took place on nights of the full moon. I have reason to believe that it lowers the probability of an animal culprit, but I wanted to consult with you before ruling it out for now.”

You inhaled slowly. Thinking about it, it surprised you that the investigators hadn't come to that conclusion beforehand – but, then again, who really paid that much attention to the moon cycle anymore? Before you became a werewolf, you certainly didn’t.

“For the most part, any difference in behavior occurs mostly in nocturnal mammalians,” you explained. “This can be explained simply by the increase of light during full moons, which allows them to see better and thus they are more active for feeding, hunting, et cetera. However, anything beyond general increases in activity is a myth. Stories of erratic, unexplainable behavior are just that – anecdotes with no scientific foundation.” The words felt slimy and hypocritical on your tongue – you were a creature whose foundation was hardly scientific. “Though some non-mammalian animals are known for mating during times when the moon is full – the horseshoe crab, for example.” You snorted to yourself. While you were out ripping innocent people and animals apart, horseshoe crabs in Florida were getting their freak on at the beaches.

“So, an animal capable of hunting humans wouldn’t do it simply because of a change in activity during a full moon,” he paraphrased.

“Yes, that would be unlikely,” you replied. “It would be fully capable of doing it on other nights, too.” The lump in your throat hurt on its way down when you quietly gulped. Every time you spoke, it felt like you were digging your own grave. “Either way, I’m sure you’ll find out when the DNA results come back.”

Lawliet made a low, displeased noise. “We must continue on without them for the time being. Since the police department does not have the equipment to do the testing here, we had to send the samples to a larger, more equipped institution in the city. Light contacted them this morning to request a progress report.” A long, slow breath on his part that tickled the nerve endings in your ear and neck. “Unfortunately, they informed us that they haven’t even begun processing our samples yet.”

“That sounds incredibly frustrating,” you huffed.

“It is. We don’t have much else to lead us right now. No connections, no murder weapon, nothing. We couldn’t find anything, no hair or other particulate remains, and the snow didn’t have the right consistency to create a plaster cast of the tracks.” Another low grunt, and his voice was muffled, and you could see in your mind’s eye his thumb pressing into his lip. “We’re not even sure if the DNA will give us anything definitive.” Low, quiet, wringing with frustration. “I’ve never had so much before me, yet seemingly so little to work with.”

“But you don’t sound completely directionless,” you reasoned. “You seem to be leaning toward a human culprit. That means something, and it narrows down the search tremendously.” He hummed, and you drummed your fingers on the desk as you stared, unseeing, at the fluorescent overhead light. “I’m guessing you’ve profiled a hypothetical human killer already.”

“That is an accurate statement.”

“So, at least, if we have a serial murderer on our hands, you know what kind of person you’re looking for,” you continued. “I think you’re already leaps and bounds ahead of the original investigation team. I have complete faith in your abilities.”

And it wasn’t a lie – when the DNA results came back detailing a third presence at the crime scene, it was only a matter of time before Lawliet narrowed the focus down to you. If anyone was going to unveil you as the murderer, it would be Lawliet.

“That means a lot to me, Doctor,” he replied, his tone just barely tinged with a hint of warmth.

No amount of stubborn willfulness could keep the heat from rushing to your cheeks.

“Thank you again for your counsel, Doctor. I find your insight most enlightening.”

Your voice fell to his level, low and warm. “I’m glad.”

“How much time do you have left before your next appointment?” he asked, quiet and a tad hopeful.

You smiled and glanced at the clock. “About five minutes.” You were already running a little late, truth be told – you were normally double-checking that you had everything you needed at this point.

That quiet, displeased grunt.

You chuckled. “We can always find another time to chat, Detective.” You hummed, leaned back in your seat. “As a matter of fact…” And you rattled off the number to your office phone – a number hardly anyone beside Kirsten and Davis knew. “The extension to my office phone. You don’t have to worry about bothering Kirsten, or the hassle of getting rerouted to me this way.”

“It’s much appreciated, Doctor.” The flirtation flicking between the syllables made your heart palpitate beneath your ribs. “What do you want to discuss next time, if I haven’t another case-related question for you?”

“Hm, if you don’t have anything in mind, I can always ramble to you about color-blindness in mammals,” you offered, lifting a shoulder and chuckling to yourself.

“That sounds fascinating. It’s a deal. I’m looking forward to it.”

“I am, too.”

When the farewells were said and the phone was in its cradle, you could still feel your pulse fluttering in your fingertips.

It didn’t go away until well into the afternoon.

* * *

She was right, of course; despite the investigation’s position, he still had his current psychological profile on the suspect to work with. Already, they’d assembled the criminal records of all the resident troublemakers within a fifty-mile radius of the kill zones.

With a sweet butterscotch hard candy pocketed firmly between teeth and gums, L carefully combed through each file.

Violent behavior, behavior some might take for malicious – of course, L didn’t believe the culprit believed they were being malicious. In fact, they probably believed that their violent outbursts were, for the most part, out of their control.

Some of the people in the files had connections to some of the victims, but anyone could have a single connection to a certain dead person. Most people would, in fact. He hummed, closed the file, and set it into the stack designated ‘useless.’ And a thought occurred to him.

What if the killings starting six years ago and the killings that started six months ago were committed by different people? The probability was small, but it would explain many things. Copycat killers were a relatively common occurrence (at least, compared to the probability that any one person was a serial killer in the first place). He sighed. He had nothing to really back that hypothesis up. No evidence. There was a smaller difference between these most recent killings and the ones before – they were spread out over a wider area of the valley, but that difference might not mean anything. The killer might just have expanded his territory. It would make sense, after all – killing in a centralized location would certainly help investigators narrow down where they were looking for the culprit. Better to spread them out, leave the epicenter unclear.

With that thought in mind, he drifted over to a map pinned to the corkboard on the wall. It detailed the valley – roads and mainstays in the town, as well as the river, a few creeks, and the lake cupped right in the valley’s dips. Blue and red pins dotted the right side – the east, where the town was nestled in some densely wooded foothills.

The blue pins, the pins that showed the location of all the killings (human and livestock victims) from the original set, were jumbled, but altogether remained in a relatively dense pattern compared to the red ones. They all occurred far out in the woods, far away from even the desolate houses, on state trails and secluded camping spots. The livestock killings occurred right on the forested edges of ranches and farms. The culprit was avoiding large groups of people and staying in areas where ducking out of sight would be easy.

The red pins were more sporadic. Some happened where the bodies were close to other houses, where they would be easily discovered. Some of the livestock were killed deeper into the wide-open pastures. And, the occasional red pin marked the west side of the valley. He huffed, turned back to the blackboard that listed all of the dates of the attacks. An idea itched at his brain, a vague memory that gnawed the edges of his focus.

Often, more than one killing happened in one night – several farms and ranches had attacks, as well as a human victim thrown in for variety.

He double-checked the numbers on the pins, the numbers that coincided with numbers assigned to each killing. Two attacks happened on the same night, but on opposite sides of the valley from one another.

He pressed his thumb hard enough into his lip for the nail to dig in uncomfortably, but he was too caught up in his thoughts to truly notice.

She’d told him that the valley was difficult to traverse on foot – that some places were even daunting for the most experienced hiker, she’d said. That made it unlikely that an animal culprit did both killings that night – it would have taken too long to travel between the two, thus putting it outside the range of time for either attacks.

A long breath out through his nose. “Maybe he started to drive to new areas to throw off an investigation,” he muttered. It was, after all, more probable than two murderers killing at the same time in the exact same way without collaborative effort. And none of the other data suggested a collaborative effort.

However, driving between crime scenes showed more agency than someone who believed they were a monster on a killing spree during the full moon would be capable of.

He sighed, rested back against the edge of a table. He scratched his cheek and suddenly remembered the hard candy in his mouth. He rolled it around with his tongue, let the sweet taste comfort him.

Now, it brought his psychological profile into question.

He felt like he’d bought a second-hand puzzle with several of the pieces missing. It’d been a long time since a case left him this befuddled.

He found it just as exciting as it was annoying; for once, he was being challenged, his talents and mind pressed to their limits.

He chuckled quietly for a moment. It seemed he was facing excitement on all fronts in his life; a gorgeous, intelligent, witty, engaging veterinarian to chat with, and a puzzling, frustrating mystery to solve.

This case in this sleepy small town would be one to remember, that much was certain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah yes, the next chapter is where things start to get spicyyyy ;) Our snowball is getting bigger *sniffles and wipes tear* Thank you for putting up with this slow burn right now. It's like we're roasting a chicken on a spit over a tea light.
> 
> WARNING: DNA TESTING LECTURE TIME (FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS)
> 
> TV shows make DNA testing seem so simple when it's really not. An in-depth analysis of someone's genome is so expensive it's just not worth doing (one sample can take 3,000 to 5,000 USD to process, and not everyone has the equipment to do it). Unless someone is willing to pay a pretty penny for it (like those DNA testing companies, and a lot of the ones like Ancestry.com still only do a very vague poking around in the genes). So what they do instead is pick a select few genes that enzymes cut from the DNA to make differentiating strand lengths, creating a DNA electropheresis graph. This option is relatively cheap, but it only allows them to rule out suspects, and without deeper and more thorough testing, it cannot 100% prove that someone is the suspect (since those limited number of genes could still be shared by other people). That's why they still pair it with things like fingerprints and blood typing for a more definitive conclusion. 
> 
> Also, if you any of you guys actually want to hear more biology tidbits or have any questions, feel free to hop to my tumblr or email me some inquiries. (Like, seriously, I mention color blindness in mammals in this chapter and it's actually one of my favorite subjects)
> 
> ANYWAYS, I hope you guys like this new chapter, and, if you don't, feel free to tell me why!


	7. The Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA the chapter where the spice levels increase drastically. Time to turn the tea light into a blowtorch. *snaps down welding mask*
> 
> Also, I wanted to update once a week on Thursdays but I apparently lack impulse control so here's chapter 7 on Monday. Chapter 8 will then come on Thursday. (omg this is the first story ever where I have chapters written in advance T-T) Also, you may notice fluctuations on the final chapter count. I have all of this outlined down to the last chapter, but some things are taking more words than I originally estimated to get through, and I want to have a generally consistent word count per chapter, though chapters will probably get longer as we work our way through this. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading this PSA. Here's the chapter!

The phone pressed to your ear, you glanced up at the clock. “Oh my,” you breathed.

“What is it?” On the phone, he always spoke so low, quiet and close, almost intimate, and it made you shudder and melt in your armchair.

“It’s getting quite late,” you replied, looking back down to Lurk, curled up happily on your lap, his paws sleepily kneading at air as you stroked down his neck to scratch under his chin.

“I suppose it is,” he murmured.

Though it was late to neither of you – you knew an insomniac when you saw one, and you yourself were plagued with restlessness.

But sitting here, in the dim coziness of your living room, chatting with Detective Lawliet quietly over the phone – it felt all too dangerous to you. The sweet, seductive kind of dangerous, the kind that was so hard to resist, like the poisoned apple. Because the later the hour grew, the more easily you could imagine him in your living room with you, nursing a glass of sweet wine in front of the fireplace and talking so quietly with you.

You weren’t even sure how you came to be here. First, conversations over the phone at the office, and then suddenly you were giving him your home phone number (just in case, you had said, but you were both all too eager to abuse the privilege). This was the fifth night of phone calls, the second night of calling him (or vice versa) from your phone.

“I think we both have long days ahead of us tomorrow,” you sighed, scratching behind Lurk’s ear. Eyes closed in sleepy bliss, he tilted his head.

His slow breath was audible, and you shivered. You could imagine his breath on your neck. “I guess that means I shouldn’t be keeping you from retiring for the night.” A pause, but you could  _ hear _ his lips parting as he pondered carefully his next words. “And I shouldn’t keep your bed partner waiting for you.”

You froze, your fingers stilling in Lurk’s fur. He blinked up at you questioningly. You finally managed to let loose the air that had been halted in your throat, and it rushed out on a breathy chuckle. “The only one sharing my bed is my cat,” you replied, cheeks hot, hating how weak you were, how you always reciprocated Lawliet’s smooth flirtations, how you earnestly answered his gentle probes.

He grunted, low and pleased, and the sound made goosebumps erupt along your skin. “I have had the most wonderful time conversing with you, Doctor.” Before, you wouldn’t have thought him capable of it, but the words purred warmly on his tongue. “I look forward to doing it again.”

“I look forward to it, too, Detective Lawliet.” And you matched his tone, and you blamed the breathy sighing quality of your voice on sleepiness.

“Goodnight, Doctor.”

“Goodnight, Detective.”

You hung up, knowing that if you didn’t do it now, you might not ever be able to.

After you laid down in bed, it took some time for your tingling nerves to calm down enough for you to fall into a turbulent slumber.

* * *

Those dark eyes burned with something hot, smoldering. Pale lips mouthed at your ear, the words indistinct but making the nerves tickle deliciously on the back of your neck. Deep and monotonous was now hot and humid and thick with desire. Surreal,  _ your _ thumb against his lip, the flash of his teeth against the sensitive pad. Marbled skin flushed tantalizingly bright, bringing that ghostly man to life. Noses brushing and skimming across one another, breaths mixing in a torrid miasma.

His dark hair on his white skin, his dark hair tangled in your fingers, his dark hair clenched in your fists. Sighs and hums and gasps of pleasure, a low grunt that made goosebumps wash over your skin. Pale flesh writhing against your own, those haunting eyes half-lidded, ecstatic. Nails tracing down his spine, engraving red lines. Lips parting wetly. The scent of sugar and flesh and  _ sex _ .

Hunger, deep and raw and  _ animal _ , tasting the sweat of his neck. His thundering pulse beneath your tongue, his delicate skin beneath your teeth.

Instinct, to take and  _ devour _ .

Teeth baring, beastly canines flashing.

His skin broke. His life fluids, his pure taste.

_ He was delicious. _

* * *

The gasp scraped your throat raw. Sweat slicked your clothes and your sheets to your skin. Your hair was humid, your face clammy. Your heart galloped in your chest. Suffocating warmth tangled around you, clenched like a fist. A whimper curled low in your straining lungs.

You rolled onto your side, away from the damp outline of your body imprinted into the bedding. You hurriedly kicked away the clinging sheets.

Still you panted, unable to get your breathing under control.

Sex dreams were not uncommon; you’d been starving your libido for over six years, and it resulted in many frustrating nights. But this was raw and vivid and  _ terrifying _ . That desire, that instinct to bite, to taste and claim – it was exactly the reason why you’d avoided any physical relationship this whole time. You touched your right bicep where a faded scar loomed. 

Biting anyone spelled certain doom.

For days now, you’d developed some sort of flirtatious companionship with the eccentric detective over the phone, and now it was following you everywhere like a gnawing shadow at your back, haunting your waking thoughts and resting dreams.

Part of you was tempted to act on your hunger this night, all alone as you had so many nights previous, but the disturbing nature your dream adopted toward its conclusion fostered a fluttering anxiety that curdled the arousal in your belly.

You clenched your fingers around a fistful of sheets. Some slow, practiced breaths brought your heart rate back into its normal range, but the scent of your own arousal stained the room. You sat up, tore the sheets off the bed. Lurk whined his annoyance, but for once you ignored him.

You were up for the day, you decided. You glanced at the clock on the nightstand.

Even if it was only two in the morning…

You could probably find something to do with yourself.

* * *

By sunrise, the house smelled sweet and warm with the wafting aroma of freshly baked cookies. While they baked, the bathroom found itself on the receiving end of a deep, bleach-soaked scrubbing, the floors a vacuuming, a sweeping, a mopping. The smallest belongings subjected to cleaning and organizing until not a single object was out of line, until not a single mote of dust graced their surfaces.

The oven creaked open, and blistering, dry heat washed over your face. Your hands – cloaked in handmade oven mitts – dragged the baking trays out, and you pressed a button to turn the oven off. As you scooped up each cookie with a spatula and transferred it to a cooling rack, you huffed in the scent of blueberries and warm cream cheese.

They were a concoction you had first made years before out of curiosity and boredom born from a slow day off, but they’d quickly become a hit when you brought a batch to the clinic. They were delicious and rich, and the occasional bites of cream cheese helped cut the sweetness and played off from the slight sourness of the blueberries.

You’d been planning to make a batch for some time, but, looking at the cookies sprawled over the cooling racks… perhaps you had gotten a little zealous in both your purchases and your manufacturing process.

Creeping to the forefront of your mind was a vision of pale fingers rifling through a jar of lollipops, of hard candy audibly clicking against teeth over the phone, of a monotonous voice lauding Esther – the receptionist at the precinct – for her generous supply of sweet snacks for the officers.

You pursed your lips, drummed your fingers on the counter in a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

Before you left that morning, you tugged down two containers to fill to the brim with cookies. You brought both with you out to the car.

* * *

For once, you didn’t allow yourself the chance to overthink a single action as you pulled into the parking lot of the precinct. Sure enough, that sleek black car crouched like a resting panther in the tire-stamped snow and splotches of asphalt. With the Tupperware clasped in your hands, you pushed your car door closed with your hip and crunched through crushed white up to the door.

Esther glanced up when the door swung open. Her wrinkled, weathered, kind face crinkled into a bright smile. “Why, hello, Doctor! To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” She smelled of old age and floral perfume.

You grinned sheepishly, shoulders raising. “I was restless last night, decided to bake some cookies, got a little heavy-handed with… well, everything. All of the ingredients,” you giggled. You proffered the container. “So I have a lot of extra product.”

She gasped, ecstatic. “Are these your famous blueberry cookies?”

“Yes.” You smiled, already prying the lid off. “Do you want to try one?”

“Of course, I do! I hear all sorts of stories about them from Kirsten.”

You weren’t surprised – Esther Cook was Kirsten’s grandmother, after all. “She was supposed to be sworn to secrecy,” you pouted, replacing the lid after Esther’s age-gnarled hands were well clear of it. “Kids these days.”

She took an eager bite of the treat, but approaching footsteps caught your attention.

Matsuda, in a grey thermal sweater and black slacks, his face buried in a piece of paper on his clipboard, padded into the room. “Esther, I was wondering if I could obtain information regarding –” He looked up and froze upon seeing you. It was only a split second of stunned silence before he was grinning widely and waving energetically. “Hello, Doctor!”

You smiled brightly in response. Matsuda was so adorable. “Good morning, Detective Matsuda.”

“What brings you here?” he asked, seemingly forgetting the clipboard in his hand.

You lifted the container. “I come bearing gifts. Of the cookie variety.”

“They are just as delicious as Kirsten claims,” Esther gushed.

“Thank you, I’m glad you like them. There’s more than enough to go around for anyone on duty today,” you said.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Matsuda commented. “Not with L around. He could clean out that whole box in one sitting.”

“I’m not that bad anymore,” came the drawling voice behind Matsuda, whose face immediately fell into a sheepish grimace. Your own nerves were immediately at attention. “You make me sound like a voracious pig.” Lawliet stepped around Matsuda, a mildly irritated expression on his otherwise unreadable face. But he froze when he saw you, his posture straightening the smallest amount and the corners of his lips ticking up. “Oh, hello, Doctor. What a pleasant surprise.”

You wiggled your fingers in a playful wave. Your heart thundered in your chest. 

“Oh, I, uh, I didn’t realize you were behind me,” Matsuda chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Clearly,” Lawliet grumbled. “When Esther is exclaiming about something being delicious, of course I am going to be following behind you.”

“Doc here makes the absolute best cookies,” Esther asserted.

You waved your hand dismissively and rolled your eyes. “I don’t think anything I could make could match up to your red velvet cake.”

Lawliet perked up even more. “Red velvet, Mrs. Cook? You should tell your husband he ought to take good care of you or else a man who is more appreciative will steal you away from him. A man like me.”

Esther swatted at him where he was half-leaning against the desk. “Oh, you charmer! You’re too young for me.”

“Age is just a number, dearest,” he drawled, smiling down at her. “Surely you wouldn’t let it keep us apart.” He winked, and Esther pealed with delighted laughter.

“You are such an imp!” she cried playfully.

You laughed and shook your head at the two. Esther had clearly made a new friend, and though Lawliet called Yagami the charming one, he certainly had his own fair share of witty quips. You knew this firsthand, too.

Lawliet’s head turned, his eyes met yours, sparkling with delight, and you couldn’t contain your wide smile. “Be careful, or all of that attention will go to Esther’s head,” you giggled.

“Every woman deserves to feel wanted,” Lawliet replied, but the way his eyes stayed intently locked on yours gave you the creeping feeling that he was talking about a different subject entirely.

You lowered your eyes, tried to carefully breathe away the heat blossoming in your cheeks. You licked your dry lips and slid the container toward him on the surface of the desk. “I have these extra cookies I made last night. You’re more than welcome to have some.”

“Last night…?” he asked, and you lifted your eyes back up to him. The curiosity in his gaze was raw, tangible.

“Well, more like this morning,” you murmured. “I didn’t sleep well.”

You usually didn’t – but the reason this time was much more unsettling than your usual fare.

“Still struggling with insomnia?” Esther asked. She was frowning with maternal worry. “You should try taking something, dear.”

“I’ve tried,” you murmured back. You lifted a shoulder. “I’ve got my own ways of coping now.” Turned out that your superhuman metabolism rendered any sort of drug useless. You dismissed the subject with a wave of your hand.

“Doctor,” Lawliet began, hand settling on top of the container. “Would you like to stay for a while or do you have to return to the clinic soon?”

You smiled. “I’ve got some time to kill.”

* * *

Detective Yagami’s head didn’t move, but his eyes darted up from the laptop in front of him. You saw the flash of irritation in his cognac eyes. “Hello, Doctor,” and the way he said it had a sneer twitching just under the surface on your face. It was a subtle insult – to him, you weren’t a  _ doctor _ .

He probably saw you as a glorified pet sitter and nothing more. The bastard.

“Hello, Detective Yagami,” you replied, friendly and polite, missing the sharp edge you so desperately wanted to apply.

Matsuda eagerly tapped the back of a spare chair around a table covered in neat, organized piles of papers and files. “Sit down, Doctor!” It was so earnest and energetic that you couldn’t deny him.

“Thank you, Detective Matsuda.”

Lawliet occupied the chair closest to you. He carefully balanced on it with practiced ease and perched like a gargoyle on the seat. You smiled and shook your head at him fondly. What a strange man.

He tapped his fingers on his knees, eying curiously the container he had set in front of him.

“I promise I didn’t poison them, Detective,” you joked, nudging his chair with your foot and pushing it a couple inches.

His hands whipped out to grab the edge of the table and pull himself back into place. He tossed a sour glare to you, but a smile flirted at the edges of his lips. “That was not my original worry, but now I’m wondering if I should be concerned.” Still, he pulled the container forward and snapped it open. “Cookies.”

“Yes,” you replied. “Blueberry and cream cheese.”

He hummed. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had a cookie with cream cheese in it.”

Matsuda’s hand snaked forward to grab one, and, lightning fast, Lawliet swatted him away.

“Hey!” Matsuda cried. He cradled his hand and pouted like a kicked puppy.

“You don’t get one,” Lawliet drawled, “not until you get those files you were originally assigned to collect.”

“Oh, I forgot about those,” Matsuda sighed, standing.

“Clearly.”

You giggled, observing Lawliet closely as he delicately plucked up one of the treats. He sniffed it curiously.

“Smells good,” he mumbled to himself. His pale lips parted, and you only saw the slightest flash of pearly teeth as he took a tentative bite out of it. He chewed thoughtfully, slowly, swallowed, and then he hummed. You tried your hardest not to ogle his pale, defined neck. The unblemished expanse made you jittery, made heat glow up between your thighs.

_ Oh god, you wanted to taste him. _

“They’re delicious.” His words jolted you out of your lustful musings. He took another, larger bite.

“I’m glad you enjoy them,” you said quietly, pleased, some primitive part of you preening.

“ _ Very _ good,” he said, getting to the center where the cream cheese and blueberries were more concentrated. “Matsuda’s right – I might not let him have any at all.” Monotone and matter of fact, and you believed him entirely.

“I brought them for everyone to share,” you laughed. “I can always make more later.”

He paused, then turned his head to you. He locked eyes with you, and his dark irises were momentarily shuttered by a slow blink. You were mesmerized by the motion. “I have a genuine question for you, Doctor.”

You tilted your head, smiling at him, watching his eyes flick down to watch the movement of your lips before he was meeting your gaze again. “And I hope I can give you a genuine answer.”

His lips parted, his shoulders lifted with a short, sharp inhale, and then he said, “Why are you single?”

You froze, heat flooding your cheeks, your heart leaping into your throat to hammer away inside your esophagus. “P-Pardon?”

He leaned back slightly in his seat to better see your face. He lifted a hand, counting off on his fingers. “You’re physically attractive, intelligent, funny, and you have obvious skill with baking.”

If you weren’t so shell-shocked from his blunt forwardness (when previously it had all been coy innuendo), you would have laughed at that last very important point.

Yagami snickered from his desk. “He’s wondering what’s wrong with you.”

Though Lawliet’s eyes narrowed with irritation at his partner, he otherwise ignored him, and you took that as a cue to do the same.

“I mean to say that you are quite the catch,” Lawliet said, quiet and genuine, and his pale cheeks pinkened just slightly. It flushed him with new life, made him look less like a marbled statue and more like a red-blooded man.

It was quite the attractive look, you noted with a hot, suppressed growl.

Your tongue felt thick and heavy in your mouth. The thoughts in your head were tangled together like poorly unraveled twine. The longer it took for you to answer, the more blood flushed to Lawliet’s cheeks, until you finally managed to choke out, “My job.” It croaked and stumbled from your lips, and you cleared your throat. “I feel like I’m usually too busy to sustain an intimate relationship,” you clarified, ignored that it was only a half-truth.

He lifted his chin in understanding, the flustered red finally bleeding from his face. “Understandable. And relatable.”

Yagami snorted, and this time Lawliet’s head snapped over to level him a glare that Yagami didn’t even raise his head to see.

The air was decidedly thick and awkward – you pouted internally, wishing such a moment had passed when there wasn’t a dickheaded psychopath there to absolutely ruin it. You sighed tightly and glanced at the clock on the wall.

“I should probably get going,” you said, low and quiet.

Lawliet’s dark eyes caught yours, tangled you in the net of complex, unreadable emotions lurking there. “I understand. Let me walk you out, Doctor.”

You nodded, a small smile ticking at your lips.

You stood, he was quick to follow, and you walked side-by-side to the door to the hallway.

Matsuda met you in the hallway just before you entered the lobby. “Oh, Doctor, are you leaving already?” He pouted.

You resisted the urge to pat his head. “Yes, I need to get to the clinic soon.”

Even more crestfallen. Then he perked up. “Well, I was trying to rope L and Light into going to The Wandering Elk with me tonight. Do you want to come?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “If you have the time…?”

Lawliet made a soft noise from beside you. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, Matsuda.”

“You totally ignored me when I brought it up earlier!”

“Circumstances changed.” Deadpan and monotone.

You laughed brightly, a little smug but trying not to show it. “I’d love to. Would you mind if I invited Kirsten and Davis to come along?”

Matsuda’s grin widened. “The more the merrier!”

“It sounds like a plan then.” You moved past him. “I guess I’ll see you later tonight at…?”

“Eight o’clock!” Matsuda chirped.

“Eight o’clock,” you repeated.

It was the weekend. You figured your co-workers/employees would enjoy an outing.

Lawliet still walked by your side as you exited the precinct. You watched him shiver in the cold – he hadn’t brought out a jacket with him. “Change of circumstances, hm?” you purred.

His face was flushed, from the cold or otherwise, you couldn’t be sure. It made his lips so pink and inviting. “It happens sometimes.” His shoulders raised toward his ears, his dark hair shifting along the bright, clean white of his long-sleeved shirt. His eyes darted away for the shortest moment. “I want to apologize for Light’s behavior. He can be… quite the ass.”

You laughed lightly, waved your hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault.”

“I don’t think that,” he blurted, and his shoulders lifted again. You realized he was… sheepish. Shy.

_ How cute. _

You blinked at him.

“That there’s anything wrong with you,” Lawliet finished.

Your breath caught in your chest.

_ You are quite the catch.  _ The words echoed in your head.

“I didn’t think you thought that,” you replied, slow and reassuring. But your next words danced on the edge of dark self-deprecation. “Though maybe you should.” You had so many things wrong with you, he would never be able to count them off on just his fingers.

He froze, lips parting.

You shook your head. “Ignore me.” You lifted a hand up, gently nudged his shoulder. He stiffened with surprise at the contact. His warmth radiated through his shirt like an aura. “You should go inside. I can see your goosebumps. Won’t do if our detective catches hypothermia, hm?”

“No, it wouldn’t,” slow, like his thoughts were still elsewhere. His thumb pressed his lower lip. You imagined replacing it with your own, with your lips, your tongue, your  _ teeth. _

“I look forward to seeing you later tonight, Detective," you breathed, husky.

“And I you, Doctor.” Low and quiet and intimate, like when it was almost midnight and you were still on the phone.

You took a deep breath and another step back toward your vehicle. You had the feeling that if you didn’t leave now, you wouldn’t leave at all.

You waved at him as you turned on the car, and then you were shifting gears to back out of your parking space. Pulling onto the road, you could still see his dark hair and pale form in the rearview mirror. It wasn’t until you were a block away that he finally turned to go back into the precinct.

_ You are quite the catch. _

You bit your lip to hide your smile.

* * *

“I think it’s a waste of time. I was under the impression that you thought the same, L.”

“We could get important information from the locals. They still don’t trust us – perhaps seeing us in a more relaxed context will make them more receptive to us.”

“Amazing how you can come up with a bullshit justification  _ just like that _ .”

“It’s a trait we share, Light. Besides, Matsuda is very excited about the prospect. He deserves a break, too. You don’t have to join us if you would rather do something else with your valuable, valuable time.”

“Yeah, right. I’m going; I don’t trust you around that woman.”

“I don’t understand what you mean, and I don’t care, either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA the chapter where Light is a cockblocking psychopathic douchewagon. *snaps down welding mask and ignites blowtorch*
> 
> I should've stated this earlier but I would really like to thank my beta reader for dealing with my churning out work like a typing monkey on crack this weekend. If you're reading this, thank you so much!


	8. The Wandering Elk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some pretty raunchy cocktail/mixed drink names in this chapter. Just a warning lol

“You don’t really have to DD, Doc,” Kirsten insisted. “I mean, it’s Sunday night. We all have work tomorrow. I don’t think we’ll be drinking too much.”

You raised a brow silently. You pointed to your vehicle with your key and pressed the unlock button. Lights flashed momentarily.

Kirsten pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “I also don’t want you to worry about bringing us back here when we’re done.”

You lifted your shoulder. “Your choice, I guess. If you need me to drive you home in the end, anyway, I’m more than willing to,” you assured. “I’m sure Derrick won’t care if you leave your vehicle there overnight.”

“But then who will come get me in the morning? You? That’s a lot of driving around for you.”

“Kirsten, don’t worry about it. I just want you to have fun.”

Davis, who had been observing the interaction, laughed and shook his head. “Whatever, I’m going with Doc. I don’t have to be in until noon.”

“That’s the spirit.” You padded to the driver’s side door. “Last chance, Kirsten.”

“I’ll meet you there, Doc,” Kirsten called.

You held your thumb up before settling into the driver’s seat and shutting the door with a heavy  _ thud _ . Davis climbed into the passenger seat, and it wasn’t until you heard the click of his seatbelt that you backed out of your parking space.

“So, uh, who’s all gonna be there?” Davis asked, the light from his smart phone illuminating his face.

“Definitely Detective Matsuda and Detective Lawliet.” You lifted a shoulder. “Maybe Detective Yagami.” You were hoping not.

“Huh. So I guess you’re all buddy-buddy with them now?” You could  _ hear _ his eyebrows waggling.

You clicked your tongue on the roof of your mouth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, c’mon, you’re talking to them on the phone, bringing them  _ cookies _ , driving them around and stuff.” He chuckled, rolling and impish, and you took a deep breath. “You sweet on one of them?”

You were glad for the dim light that hid the blood rushing to your cheeks. “No.”

He laughed, as though you had only confirmed his suspicions. “Which one is it?”

“None of them,” you growled. It wouldn’t be the first time either he or Kirsten tried to play matchmaker for you, but this time, he was hitting a little too close to home for your comfort.

“I’m almost thinking Detective Yagami – of course you’d lie to yourself about being attracted to him since he’s married and all.”

“ _ No _ ,” and it came out as a venomous hiss, and you physically recoiled at the notion. You’d rather drink bleach than do anything with that snake. (Your own vehemence on the subject startled you – Yagami hadn’t even done all that much to incur your wrath, but you still felt this aversion to him that seemed to sink all the way down to your individual cells.)

“Oh wow, guess you’re not a fan of that guy, then.” He seemed startled, too – there hadn’t been a single time in the past that he’d ever heard you react so negatively to someone who was practically a stranger.

You made a low sound in your throat, a grumbling admission.

“Huh. You know, neither Matsuda nor Lawliet seem like they’d be your type,” he murmured, and you could see him rubbing his clean-shaven chin out of the corner of your eye.

“You don’t even know what my type is, Davis,” you snorted.

“Exactly, but neither of them seems like they’d be it, ya know? I’ve always imagined this Crocodile Dundee type of guy, like a gritty bushmaster badass. Or maybe a young Clint Eastwood type. Stoic and strong. Alpha male kind of guys.”

You laughed. “You think I’m into the alpha male types?”

“Yeah, that’s why I guessed Yagami at first. He seemed polite and urbane and all but definitely an alpha male. I mean,  _ you _ are an alpha female, so it just seems fitting that you’d want someone on the same level.”

You pursed your lips. You didn’t really see yourself as an ‘alpha female,’ but you could understand where he was getting it from.

“My main point is that Matsuda seems too passive and dopey, like a puppy—”

“I thought the same thing!” you whisper-shouted.

“—and Lawliet seems too… well, he’s just fucking strange.”

“That’s a little harsh,” you muttered. Sure, he was eccentric, but Davis' tone was making him sound like a circus freak.

“Oh my god,” he exclaimed, slamming his head back against the headrest dramatically. “It’s Lawliet, isn’t it?”

“No,” you huffed. Yes, yes it was.

“Oh my  _ god! _ ” He palmed his face. “I never would have guessed it. Of course you’ve never shown any interest in the guys around here – they aren’t freaky enough for you!”

You resisted every urge to slam on the brakes. “Davis,” you growled, low and dangerous, rumbling in your chest, louder than the engine. “You are being a fucking asshole right now. Don’t doubt my resolve to kick you out of my fucking vehicle right the fuck now.”

He was frozen, and you could  _ smell _ the fear wafting off him – you’d never used such a tone, much less on him.

“I don’t want to hear any more about this,” you said, stone cold, eyes on the road.

The rest of the ride was in awkward silence, and anger continued to seethe beneath your skin, evident in the way your gloved hands gripped at the steering wheel. You took several deep breaths, but the feeling still writhed beneath your sternum.

You pulled into the parking lot of The Wandering Elk. It was largely empty, being a Sunday night, right before the beginning of the new work week, and you pulled into a spot and cut the ignition.

The radiator ticked away in the awkward moment of silence before Davis took a breath so deep it rustled his coat.

“I’m sorry, Doc,” he said.

You didn’t look at him as you took your seatbelt off. “You don’t get to treat people like they’re less than human just because they’re different than you.”

“That’s not what I meant –”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant. Think before you speak next time.” And you exited the car, the door thudding heavily behind you.

You were generally a forgiving person – an apology and an explanation were usually enough to sate you, and you then carried on without a second thought or grudge…

But something hot and bitter bubbled inside of you. He’d directly insulted you, and yet that wasn’t even your biggest problem – you didn’t at all like how Davis talked about Lawliet. It made something wild and possessive claw at your insides.

You paused a moment to bite down on the panic welling inside you.

_ You were protective. _

Protective of this man you barely knew, this man that you just met a week ago. Apparently, protective enough to leave your employee, co-worker, and close friend on the side of the road because of a poorly worded joke.

You sucked the cold night air in through your teeth and wished you could feel the pain of the chill. “Fuck.”

“I really am sorry, Doc,” Davis beseeched, like a child begging for his mother’s forgiveness. It was hard to stay mad at him. 

You breathed out slowly, watched the vapor of your breath curl in the bar’s floodlights. “I know. Just don’t talk about people like that, okay?”

“Yeah,” quiet and low, and then Kirsten was pulling up next to you. You breathed a sigh of relief. Davis could focus all his anxiety on her, now.

The three of you walked in together. The Wandering Elk Grill & Tavern was filled with the smell of people, alcohol, steaks, and greasy bar burgers. Of course, the interior was rustic, raw wooden furniture and mounted deer heads. You never particularly liked the beady marble eyes staring down at you, but it was better than Rusty’s, a bar on the fringes of town that should have been shut down years ago but still managed to stay in business. Somehow.

“Doc!” Matsuda cried from a rounded booth with worn and peeling upholstery.

Light’s face was a polite smile of greeting, but you could tell by the set of his shoulders that he would rather be literally anywhere else. From beside him, dark eyes gazed upon you, lips tilted in the slightest smile. You were expecting Lawliet to be crouched on the bench seat, but he sat with his feet flat on the floor, though he still had that distinctive hunch to his shoulders. You all filed into the rounded booth. You slid in next to Lawliet on impulse, Kirsten squeezing in beside you. Davis fit in next to Matsuda. Your shoulder brushed against Lawliet’s, your knee bumping into his. His scent was subtle, almost overpowered by the overwhelming musk of the bar, but still you could smell him – a cold winter’s night and blueberries and cream cheese.

You thrummed your gloved fingers on the table. “How are you three doing tonight?”

“Good, good,” Matsuda answered.

You hummed and moved to tug your gloves off and tuck them in your pockets. Your elbow nudged Lawliet in the side, and you  _ felt _ his breath seize up at the contact.

But then his knee pressed more firmly into yours, nearly the entire length of his thigh touching yours. You pressed back, gentle and subtle, and felt your pulse thrumming all the way to your fingertips.

Jessie, the waiter, stopped by to set a whole cluster of menus on the table. “Here you are. I’ll give you a moment to look at these.”

You met his eyes and smiled. “Thanks, Jessie.”

“Just doin’ my job, Doc,” he replied with a wink before he was off to go to another table. The bar wasn’t all that busy, but still he bounced between tables, making sure drinks were topped and dishes cleared and customers happy.

Jessie was a hard worker. You wished he had taken your offer of night duty at the clinic. Gabby couldn’t do it by herself all the time, and the number of all-nighters you could pull in her absence without looking like a total fucking mess were always a little suspicious.

“What do you recommend, Doctor?” Lawliet’s low voice murmured beside you, and you tried to restrain your shiver. It wasn’t until his voice was purring in your ears that you realized you had never been this close to him.

You glanced down at the menu he had opened onto the table’s surface. You hummed. “I don’t know how you feel about steak, but they’re pretty good here.” You tapped a nail on the laminated surface. “But they’re locally famous for their burgers.”

“It’s not hard to be locally famous when there’s only two bars in a thirty-mile radius,” Davis quipped, and Light snorted his derisive agreement.

You ignored both and flipped the page on the menu. “If neither of those meet your fancy, I’d recommend the Caesar chicken sandwich.” You reached forward to pluck a little laminated book from the center of the table. “Now, their cocktail menu on the other hand… one of the best I’ve ever come across.” You turned your head, and Lawliet met your gaze. You waggled your eyebrows. “And I was a bartender in undergrad for three different establishments.”

“It’s because she couldn’t hold down a job,” Kirsten whisper-yelled.

“False,” you deadpanned. “And if you keep talking shit, I’ll push you out of this booth.” She giggled but didn't respond.

“I can’t say I’m familiar with mixed drinks,” Lawliet admitted.

“Well, we can change that tonight,” you laughed, putting the menu back, “if you’re willing to trust me.” You winked at him.

His cheeks flushed pink, but he gave a small smile in return.

* * *

Lawliet, Matsuda, and Davis both followed you up to the bar. You claimed a stool, Matsuda and Lawliet to either side of you, Davis next to Matsuda.

“Alrighty, Derrick, I’ve taken it upon myself to show these handsome men a good time,” you started, drumming your hands on the stained bar top.

“Buckle up, boys,” Derrick said darkly, leaning his palms on the bar top and smiling down at you.

“We’re gonna want some shots, since we want to cover a lot of ground.” Getting the drinks in shot form meant you could expose them to a larger variety before they reached their limit. They’d already ate, and you made sure they’d already had a good amount of water to drink, and now you could get them absolutely wasted.

“You’re not going to drink?” Derrick asked, lining up shot glasses and preparing his tools.

“Nope, DD’ing tonight,” you replied. You had to be in the mood for the  _ smell _ of alcohol, let alone the taste of it, and you had yet learned the exact threshold it took for you to get drunk – you guessed you’d have to have an IV dripping alcohol into your veins for you to get shitfaced.

Being able to drink a lot of alcohol without getting even buzzed was incredibly suspicious.

“What are we starting off with?” Derrick asked, shaking his head with a grin.

“We’re coming out with guns blazing,” you declared loftily. “Get them a Son of a Bitch, please.”

Matsuda laughed at the drink name, and you could hear Davis’ dismayed groan.

“I’m not sure I want to know why the drink is named so,” Lawliet said quietly, leaning his elbow on the bar top.

“Oh, you’ll find out,” you chuckled darkly, meeting his eyes. Compared to being crammed into the booth, you were far away from him now, and you missed his warmth, his scent.

But he shifted, and then his knee was pressing into yours again, his eyes still locked on yours.

You didn’t move away.

Derrick slid the shots in front of each of them.

You grinned, leering and impish, and Lawliet lifted the shot glass to sniff at the liquid contained therein. “It smells strong.”

You didn’t say anything.

“Let’s all drink at the same time!” And Matsuda began counting down.

Lawliet slammed the drink back like a pro, and you couldn’t help but eye his neck, watch the motion as he swallowed. You could tell when the drink hit them – a collective groan and hiss, Davis even growling “son of a bitch!” as he crashed his glass back onto the bar top.

Lawliet’s lips were moving, his eyes squeezed shut, but you couldn’t recognize the words slipping from his mouth. It sounded like foreign curses, husky and vehement, and you tried to laugh away the heat that suddenly bolted through you.

“Now I understand the name,” Lawliet choked, glaring at you. You winked at him.

“Yup. That drink is nothing but high-proof alcohol and it hits like a semi-truck,” you giggled. “I promise to be nicer this time.” Derrick snorted. You gaped at him as if offended. “What?”

“I feel like this is going to be a trial by fire,” he muttered.

You lifted a shoulder.

You genuinely did get the worst one right out of the gate. The rest you had in mind were much milder, and actually enjoyable. “Derrick, could you please get out the whipped cream? I believe these men would each like a Blowjob,” you announced.

Matsuda choked next to you, nearly spitting out the water he was nursing to wash down that concoction you had ordered for them.

“This one’s pretty good,” Davis assured. “Nothing like the last one.”

You snickered as you watched Derrick mix the cream liqueur with a few other ingredients, then topped each shot glass with a little puff of canned whipped cream.

“It looks promising,” Lawliet said, dabbing his fingertip into the whipped cream and bringing it to his lips. The wet flash of his pink tongue mesmerized you.

Matsuda counted down again, and Lawliet threw his head back again. This time, your eyes traced down the line of his lean chest beneath his clean white shirt, to his jean-clad thigh, down to where his knee was pressed to yours.

You lifted your eyes back up when the shot glass clinked back onto the bar. He licked any remaining cream from his lips. Heat, trembling and liquid, pulsed through your veins.

“That one was quite enjoyable.”

“Yeah, it was pretty sweet,” Matsuda said. “I kinda want more.”

“You can get an entire drink,” you informed, but your impish grin warped your smile. “ _ After _ I’ve had my fun with you.”

“You can be sadistic, Doctor,” Lawliet said, knee pushing against yours just a little more.

“All in good fun,” you purred back. “Alright, Derrick, I’ve got one last one for you: could you prepare some Sex Panthers for us, please?”

“This one is one of my favorites,” Davis commented.

And then a line of reddish shots. You pushed Lawliet’s into his waiting hand.

Another countdown, Lawliet slamming the drink back, and when he came back down, the most hilarious grimace on his face. He shuddered, head shaking dramatically.

“It’s so sour!” Matsuda hissed, laughing.

More foreign curses from Lawliet.

You all but cackled, swaying in your seat. “Okay, okay, I’m done torturing you,” you giggled. “Derrick, put all those shots on my tab. Thank you, kind sir.” He nodded and walked off. Matsuda and Davis were now conversing, so you turned to the man on your other side.

Lawliet was still shuddering with aftershocks from the last one. You laughed softly at him, nudged him with your elbow. “Oh, come on, that one wasn’t that bad,” you chuckled.

“I did not expect it to be sour, and I didn’t expect it to be  _ that sour _ ,” he grumbled and glared at you from under his dark lashes. “I didn’t realize you had such a dark side.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” you cooed, setting your chin on your palm. You winked at him and tapped your foot on top of his. “I’ll buy you another Blowjob to make up for it. You seemed to enjoy that one.”

His cheeks pinkened, lips parting, then he lowered his eyes. “It was very sweet.”

You hummed, admired his long pale hands on the dark bar top. Defined knuckles, dark veins, elegant tendons visible just under the skin. “There are quite a few other sweet ones, too. A lot of the fruity margaritas, for example.”

“But do they have whipped cream?” Equal parts playful and hopeful.

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m sure you could ask to have whipped cream added to them, but I wouldn’t recommend doing that. They just wouldn’t be complementary mixtures.”

“You said you worked as a bartender in undergrad,” he stated plainly, but his tone prompted you to go on.

“Ah, yes. That was hell. Working a bar near a university that has a distinct party culture…? Kids were packed in there tighter than sardines in a can.” You lifted your shoulders. “But it was overall a good working experience. I learned to operate well under pressure.”

“A necessity in your line of work,” he murmured, his thumb to his lips.

“Definitely,” you replied. You waved Derrick over when he was done with his previous task to order a full drink for Lawliet. As you both watched him mix up the sweet, creamy drink, you subtly leaned to the side, pressed more of your leg against Lawliet. “You know, Detective, I disclosed information to you, and you’ve yet to disclose information of equal value.” Purring faux innocent.

“Oh?” he breathed, close to your ear. You could smell the Raspberry Pucker from the Sex Panther on his breath. Slow, almost hesitant, he stretched his arm out, laid it on the back of your barstool.

“Is there a Mrs. Lawliet?” You asked, watching as Derrick set the drink down before you. He quickly walked off. You curled a finger around the perspiring glass before Lawliet could grab it, dragged it closer to you to swipe a bit of whipped cream off the top. “Or perhaps a prospective Mrs. Lawliet?” You smirked at him, watched his eyes stare at your lips as you licked the cream from your finger.

He exhaled slowly through parted lips, his pale cheek flushing. “There is no Mrs. Lawliet, prospective or otherwise.”

You released his drink, nudged it into the slack half-circle of the hand he still had resting on the bar top. “Too busy for romance?” you asked.

He tilted his head. You could hear the faint whisper of his dark hair sliding over his shoulders. “Something like that,” he murmured. “Though most women don’t have much of an interest in me, busy or not.”

“I find that hard to believe, Detective,” you replied softly, watching closely as he lifted the drink up for a sip. Nearly tucked into his side, you wondered what exactly was stopping you from leaning in and nuzzling into his neck, his shoulder.

“L,” he said, clear. “I would like it if you called me L, Doctor,” he said, meeting your eyes.

“L? Is that a nickname?” you asked, stealing another dab of his whipped cream.

“No,” slow and distracted when you licked your finger. “It’s… It’s my given name.”

“Fascinating.”

“Eccentric parents,” he supplied.

“Aren’t they all?” you laughed quietly, your shoulders shaking and bumping into his arm. Oh god, you were all cuddled up to him and you couldn’t even bring yourself to stop. “L,” you began, and you  _ felt _ his breath hitch in his lungs, “if you want me to call you by your given name, you have to call me by mine.”

And then he said it, in that quiet, low, intimate tone, and you felt goosebumps erupt on the back of your neck, on your arms, on your legs where you were pressed together.

So badly, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to taste the liqueur on his lips, wanted to lick and nip at his clean jawline, wanted to mouth at his pretty neck, maybe sink your teeth in and  _ mark him. _

“I’m finding it very hard to believe that you have trouble with women,” you breathed, shifting your leg against his in a sensual rub.

“I’m not exactly what you would call ‘conventionally attractive,’” he husked.

“Fuck convention.” It was a low, sultry whisper.

“That has been my motto in life thus far.” His dark eyes were darker than ever, the pupils blown wide as they peered into you. His hand twitched, unsure, and then the other settled onto your shoulder. You leaned into the touch.

“L,” a voice growled behind you, and you nearly jumped out of your skin, your heart palpitating in your ribs.

That was the first time someone had startled you like that in nearly six years.

L’s arm dropped from the back of your stool, and he looked over his shoulder drolly. “Light,” he replied, monotonous and lackadaisical.

“We should probably get going.” The tone seethed beneath the surface.

The urge to turn and snarl was strong, but you held it back. Instead, you glanced over your shoulder with a sly grin. “At least let him finish his Blowjob, Detective Yagami,” you purred, then laughed at his startled, disgusted expression.

“His  _ what _ ?”

“It’s this drink,” L replied, also thick with humor as he lifted the glass, still crested with a drooping garnish of whipped cream. “It’s delicious. You should try one.”

“Thank you for the offer but I think I’ll refuse.” So polite and cordial it was mocking.

“Your loss.” L shrugged and lifted the glass to his lips.

Yagami’s growl was quiet in his chest but you could still hear it. You sighed and stood. There wasn’t much more you were going to get now that Yagami finally decided to interfere. You were surprised it took him as long as it did.

“I’ll be taking my leave,” you said quietly, missing L’s heat wrapped around you.

L said your name, and something about his tone had your heart stuttering in your chest. Then, quiet, his eyes earnest on yours, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, L.”

Arms suddenly wrapped around you from behind. “Goodnight, Doc!” Matsuda cried, alcohol thick on his breath. Next to him, Davis was a similar level of drunk. The two must have continued downing drinks while you were… distracted.

“Goodnight, Matsuda,” you laughed, gently disentangling yourself from his embrace. “Davis, are you ready to go?” you asked.

“Nah, Kirsten said she’ll take me home,” he slurred, and Kirsten rolled her eyes next to him.

“Don’t get too plastered, and keep drinking water,” you reminded, sliding your jacket and gloves on.

“Yes,  _ mom _ ,” Davis groaned.

“That’s  _ Doctor Mom _ to you.” You paid your tab, slipped a generous bill into the tip jar, and turned to leave.

You caught L’s dark eyes observing you closely, the rim of his glass pressed into his lower lip. You gave a subtle wave, and his lips ticked up into the smallest smile.

You stepped out into the cold night. The chilly breeze nipped at your warm cheeks. It was a relief.

You were weak. So, so weak. He was as tempting as a siren’s song, and flirting with him was addictive as heroin.

Shit, shit, shit. You knew you shouldn’t encourage yourself  _ or _ L, but you had a sinking, dreadful feeling that there was no turning back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, gross -- cockblock Light makes another appearance. It's my personal headcanon that L does not like really sour stuff. Sweet and sour...? Barely makes the cut, but he doesn't like foods that are sour purely for the purpose of being sour. Although Sex Panthers are pretty good as long as they are served cold. If you order a whole drink, better down it before it gets warm because then the sourness is unbearable. Also, any OOC behavior on his part is explained next chapter (the not-crouching-like-a-gargoyle specifically)
> 
> The way it's looking, the next update will be next Thursday. Sorry, no Monday update. :( 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this juicy chapter where our snowball took out several medium-sized animals and a few small children on its way down the mountain. I'll see you all next week <3


	9. The Results

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one where L is a little shit. That's basically the summary of this chapter. Jk, jk
> 
> Also, I know I mentioned the possibility of Monday updates in an earlier chapter. With how things are looking, I'm going to stick to Thursday updates until all of the chapters are written, beta'd, and revised. When that happens, we'll go to Monday _and_ Thursday updates. How does that sound?

His vision blurred around the edges a little bit, and a slight throbbing clawed at the edges of his brain. He drained the bottle of water quickly and stood up to refill it. After she had left, he’d finished his drink and ordered a second one. And a third. And probably a fourth. He added ‘Blowjobs’ to the top of the list of preferred alcoholic beverages. The list was already short – mostly due to his inexperience with drinking, and he doubted the aftereffects would be so strong if he weren’t such a lightweight.

Matsuda was still sleeping off his hangover at the bed and breakfast where they were staying just a block away from the precinct, and, to avoid Light’s inevitable lecture, L got up early to walk to the precinct alone.

He was almost tempted to wear the same shirt as the night before – it might have been his alcohol-addled mind, but he could have sworn that her scent lingered on his clothing. It was altogether unlikely, so he changed his clothes for a fresh set of nearly identical ones.

He was in new territory – never had a woman so clearly reciprocated his attraction; it left him emboldened but unsure at the same time. The door slammed open and Light stormed in.

“Good morning, Light,” L greeted, a little subdued but still himself. His headache was already feeling better after the amount of water he had ingested.

“Good  _ morning?! _ That’s all you have to say to me?” Light hissed in Japanese.

“It is a customary greeting,” L sighed, turning to tuck himself into a chair. While he’d missed his habitual crouch while at the bar, he had savored the amount of contact he’d been able to share with her.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Light barked, following him and casting his looming shadow over L.

“I’m not playing at anything.” He took a healthy drink from his bottle. He made sure to crinkle the plastic just to heighten Light’s annoyance.

“Do you have to be difficult about everything?” Light’s shoulders trembled with his rage.

“I’d like to think I’m being rather amicable right now.”

Light growled, turned, and clutched his forehead with aggravation. “This isn’t like you at all.”

“I don’t think any of my behavior thus far has been out of character,” L murmured, then took another couple of gulps that crinkled the plastic.

“Can you  _ stop that _ ?” Light snapped, and he nearly swiped the bottle from L’s hand had L not anticipated the outburst and dodged with a languid wrist.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Goddamnit, L!” nearly a bellow, but aborted breaths brought Light back down to seething, panting rage. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you right now. We have no idea who could be a suspect –  _ she  _ could be our murderer, for all you know! And even if she isn’t, it isn’t professional to get involved with someone who’s working with us on the case!”

L sighed tightly. “First, it is highly unlikely that she is our perpetrator—”

“Any amount of likeliness is too much for my taste.”

“—And it’s quite hypocritical of you to be berating me for  _ getting involved with someone who’s working on the case _ ,” L drawled, the words monotonous but still dripping with venom. “For instance, I do believe it was  _ you _ who had the affair with Takada Kiyomi, even though you were engaged to Misa at the time.” He tapped his finger on his chin. “Or perhaps that time you slept with the prosecutor on our case in Venice, just weeks after the end of your honeymoon.”

Light snarled. He was never one to like it when his own misdeeds were thrown back into his face. “That’s hardly the same—”

“Or maybe you forgot about the time that you fornicated with a suspect during our case in Rio. Ah yes, but you claimed it was  _ to get information. _ ”

Light’s chest heaved with his anger. “There’s a huge difference between me and you – I can have sex with someone without getting emotionally attached.”

“Yes, because you feel emotional attachment to no one and nothing but yourself – that’s why you’re a psychopath, Light,” L sighed, rubbing his face, standing up, and walking to the white board.

Light was still ranting at him, probably denying the truth about his personality disorder, or maybe doubling down on his previous speeches about how much he didn’t trust the veterinarian. Meanwhile, L pulled out the maneuverable whiteboard and flipped it to the relatively unused side. He brushed away the scattered writing with his shirt sleeve, and then plucked a marker up and popped the cap.

“—in the way—What the hell are you doing?”

L drew four circles of varying sizes that all intersected at the center. “It really comes down to a matter of population statistics, Light.” He capped the marker and stood beside the whiteboard. He barely registered the fact that Matsuda was now sitting in the back of the room with a cup of coffee in his hands and his big brown eyes blinking widely at the debacle unfolding in front of him. L, with a single, swinging motion of his arm, tapped the cap of the marker on the area outside of his circles. “The surface of this whiteboard represents the entire population of women that now exists on earth.”  _ Clack _ , the cap of the marker slapped down onto the center of the largest circle. “This circle represents the population of women that I find physically attractive.” The circle easily took up about sixty-five percent of the board, though he knew it ought to be much larger – it wasn’t hard to please him when it came to the female form.  _ Clack _ , onto the next circle, a comparably much smaller one. “This circle represents the population of women who are capable of holding even a vaguely interesting conversation with me.”  _ Clack _ , onto the next circle, a medium-size one. “This circle represents the population of women who have skill in baking.” The harshest  _ clack _ of all as he slapped the cap onto the last circle, a very small one. “ _ This _ circle represents the population of women that find  _ me _ attractive.”

He turned and leaned in obnoxiously close, uncapped the marker, and started filling in the very small intersection. He made sure to move the marker in such a way that it made the most irritating squeaking noise. “ _ This _ intersection represents the population of women that matches all four criteria.” He stood back, tapped the butt of the marker into the shaded section repeatedly, enough to make Light’s eyebrows tick with irritation. He said her name then, savored the way it rolled on his tongue – “ _ She _ fits right in this area. You are a complete dunce if you think I am going to pass up on this opportunity simply because you decided you want to be controlling.”

In his peripheral vision, L saw Matsuda raise his hand. He pointed to the other man with the marker. “Yes, Matsuda?”

“I would just like to note that we would all have a lot better luck with women if Light wasn’t there to steal all of the attention.” Hoarse and exhausted – Matsuda was still in the throes of his hangover.

“Excellent point!” L emphasized his words with an emphatic gesture. “For that fair argument, you are now my favorite co-worker for the week.”

“… But I don’t think you guys should be talking to each other like this.”

“Consider yourself demoted, Matsuda,” L sighed. “I guess Aizawa is now my favorite co-worker.”

“He’s not even on our team anymore,” Matsuda muttered, sitting back and crossing his arms.

“Sensible of him,” L murmured. There were a lot of people who weren’t on their team anymore.

Light growled with frustration at them. “Whatever, ignore me then. You’re just going to do whatever you want anyways.”

“Astute observation,” L drawled. But he refrained from saying the words that rested right on the tip of his tongue –  _ We wouldn’t be in this situation if  _ **_you_ ** _ didn’t do whatever you wanted whenever you wanted, Light. _ He was tired of arguing. He just wanted to down another bottle of water and then maybe polish off those blueberry and cream cheese cookies.

* * *

“Can you get me some raspberry tea?” Kirsten asked sweetly, and you smiled at her over your shoulder.

“Of course. Anything else?” You slipped on your gloves. Jerry’s Market was right across the street, and you had your incredible resistance to even the coldest of temperatures, but you still seemed weak to the cold winds that chapped your skin. And with how often you had to wash your hands throughout a regular workday, any amount of protection from the wind was protection used.

“Nope! Thanks, Doc,” she chirped, turning back to the computer.

You stepped out, felt the wind whip around you, tugging at your hair where it was pinned back.

Several of the exam rooms needed a deep cleaning, and Davis had forgotten to add medical-grade sanitization solution to the order list, so that meant you needed to march to the store and see if they had anything strong enough to do the trick until the next shipment came in. Bleach did the job in a pinch, but you hated the way it smelled. The thick miasma that lingered long after you were done made it feel like the hairs inside your nose were going to burn right off. 

You stepped onto the sidewalk. The sidewalks were plowed, but still a thick layer of snow had been compacted underneath – too dense to get scraped away by the plow blades – melted, and refroze into a casing of slippery ice. You stepped carefully, made sure to keep your strides and your center of gravity even. You looked back up when you made it to the intersection. This small town didn’t even have a complete stoplight, only a flashing yellow light to warn drivers of the intersection, so you made sure to give each side a thorough surveying before you crossed.

The road was, for the most part, cleared of all ice and snow, so you were confident enough to trot across and into the parking lot of Jerry’s Market. A spattering of cars occupied the spaces, squatting desolate in the cold with road salt and dirty ice clinging to their flanks. You walked up to the automatic sliding doors – you could hardly see inside the store, they were so caked with flyers and papers and notices.

Missing person notices that you tried not to stare at as they whooshed to your side.

You looked down at your shoes as you passed through the vestibule. It stank of the can and bottle machine – that sickly sweetness of old corn syrup and dried beer that had bile gurgling in your stomach unpleasantly.

Overall, they had found thirteen bodies – but there were many more missing. There were hundreds of miles of forest, places where people hadn’t walked in ten years, may not walk in ten more. Places where skeletons would long have been turned into dust before they were ever discovered.

You knew that you were to blame for their disappearances. You knew you were to blame for the growing emptiness of this already small town – it was becoming abandoned as people moved away in fear for their lives. You couldn’t blame them.

If you could move to get away from yourself, you would do it in a heartbeat.

You took a deep, calming breath and lifted your head as you walked past the checkout lanes. The cashiers waved at you. “Hey, Doc!”

You nodded and smiled in greeting. “Hello!”

“It’s a brisk morning out there! Glad to see that you’re bundled up for once!”

“Yeah, I was getting tired of you guys nagging at me,” you called over your shoulder as you walked down the aisle with the cleaning supplies. Laughter nipped at your heels.

You crouched down to inspect the products, your high boots creaking with the motion. Soft, worn leather brushed your chin as you thoughtfully cupped it in your palm. You sighed. Unfortunately, a lot of the bleachless cleaners they supplied weren’t quite up-to-snuff for the purposes you had in mind. You sighed and grabbed a jug off the lowest shelf. Maybe you could dilute it somehow… just mix in water and maybe some other stuff to cut the smell.

You froze. The back of your neck prickled.

Still crouching in the aisle, you turned your head to cautiously look both ways.

You… felt like you were being watched. But it didn’t look like anyone was there.

You lifted your head up to sniff at the air discreetly. The overwhelming scent of cleaning products overpowered everything else. With a low, displeased grunt, you stood, gallon of bleach in hand. Fighting the tenseness threatening to take over your whole body, you ambled to the end of the aisle. You kept it low-key, tried to not look so conspicuous as you scoped out every visible nook and cranny as you passed to the front. A nagging instinct told you to sweep the whole store for good measure, but you simply stopped to get Kirsten her tea before going to the checkout.

The cashier struck up some small talk that you could only vaguely respond to. The prickling of your neck had grown into a full-body chill, and you wanted so badly to raise your hackles and growl threateningly. You threw a glance over your shoulder. You still couldn’t catch sight of anyone in particular watching you. You cast your eyes up and froze.

The black eye of a camera above the checkout stared back.

You gave as warm a farewell as you could before you snatched up your purchases and left.

* * *

When you returned, Davis was already there – one of his doting neighbors had driven him into work early.

“Just in time,” you said, setting Kirsten’s tea in front of her. She squealed a ‘thank you’ that you nodded at. “I was about to start cleaning some of the exam rooms. Do you think you can handle any walk-ins?” you asked him.

He was already in his scrubs – you suspected that he was ready to work.

He smiled brightly, no trace of a hangover, and gave you two thumbs up. Walk-ins were fairly uncommon, but it was still best to have someone ready to accept them. In fact, you more often had townspeople walk in to chat rather than a random walk-in with a patient. Most people bothered to make an appointment beforehand, since they all knew how much you preferred appointments.

You cloistered yourself in an exam room, turned on some music, and whipped out the cleaning supplies. An itch still lingered beneath your skin, and you were eager to bury yourself in work to either get rid of it or simply ignore it.

You sighed, cracked your neck, and got to work. The rooms all got a preliminary sanitization after use, but you still liked to do a deep cleaning every other day to make sure everything was spic and span.

It wasn’t too long before that itch was forgotten, and you were lost in your music, lost in wiping and mopping and spraying and organizing. You swayed, hummed, mouthed lyrics and occasionally sang softly, letting yourself escape into the rhythm in ways you normally didn’t. When that room was cleaned to your high standards, you migrated to the next one, cart of cleaning supplies dragged by one hand, Bluetooth speaker cradled in the other.

In a spray bottle, you had diluted bleach, and you spritzed, wiped, repeated, restocked supplies, even swept up any little bits of dirt or debris that you could. You would have to come through later tonight and thoroughly mop – road salt was crusted on the floor in the hall and in some of the other rooms. You were swinging your hips lightly side-to-side as you replaced the empty boxes of gloves. So enthralled by your task and distracted by the music, you didn’t hear the front door to the clinic opening, or Kirsten’s enthusiastic greeting of “Hello, Detective Lawliet!”

You hummed, wiped down the counter, checked the soap levels in the dispenser by the sink.

That prickling on your neck returned, but warm and tickling instead of cold and chilling, and you inhaled sharply and looked over your shoulder. Davis and L lingered in the doorway, Davis snickering behind his hand. But L’s dark eyes were on you in a different way, warm and intense, fond and longing. It made your breath catch in your throat.

“Hello,” you said quietly, cheeks warm.

“This is one of the only times you can sneak up on this woman,” Davis commented, shaking his head and walking back down the hallway.

“Come on in, if you want,” you said, smiling softly, turning back to reassemble the soap dispenser. “What brings you here, L?” you set a hand on the speaker to turn it down to a low murmur.

He hummed. “Nothing of particular importance, I admit. Light decided to be especially obtuse today, and I thought it best that I get a break from him before I kicked him in the face again.”

You laughed at the imagery. “Again? I didn’t take you for a violent person.”

“I’m not,” he sighed. “Light just brings it out in me.”

“I relate, honestly,” you replied, chuckling darkly, turning to face him again and leaning back against the counter.

“Oh?” L wandered in closer, dragging out the wheeled stool you or Davis would normally sit in. He lightly perched his hip on the very edge of the seat. His dark eyes were on your face, so eager and observant.

You hated how much you loved the way he focused all his attention on you.

You lifted a shoulder and grinned wryly. “I haven’t even known him for that long and there’s been a few times that I wanted to push him into a snowbank.”

“As much as I would like to tell you that you should’ve done it, it only would have made matters worse.” He pressed his gloved thumb to his lip. His face was flushed, and with him, he carried the scent of wind and snow that cut through the inundating odor of bleach.

“Did you walk here?” you asked. You tilted your head curiously.

“Yes. I avoid driving at all costs if I must.”

You hummed. “It’s a bit brisk out today.”

“The wind was refreshing,” he said softly. Here, talking to him in person, in private, he looked so much softer, yet at the same time, intense.

It was your first time alone together since the excursion by the lake, you realized hotly.

“Well, you’re free to visit anytime,” you said, smiling, “though I’m sure you were aware of that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Low and purring, flirtatious. “Are you sure I won’t be a distraction?” His dark eyes flicked down to the cart before looking back up at you. Playful but also genuinely concerned about your productivity.

“This is just busy work,” you replied. “Something for me to do between appointments. I get restless with no work to do.” Your smile was a smirk, sultry, crawling onto your face without your permission. “So maybe you’re saving me from myself. My hero.”

“I wouldn’t say that you were overworking yourself – you seemed to be having a good time when I arrived.” His tone was lilting, teasing.

You flushed, a little embarrassed, but not so embarrassed as to not quip, “I’m having even more fun, now.”

“It’s not often that people call me fun,” he remarked, shifting, and you realized suddenly that you had both been drifting closer to one another, both leaning on the counter facing each other.

“Maybe you’re not spending time with the right people.” You lowered your eyes down to his hands, still gloved, and you reached forward, your hand circling his wrist. With your other hand, you plucked at his fingers, drew the material slowly up and away. Your breath was short in your lungs as you briefly ran your fingertips over his warm palms, across his pretty knuckles. He inhaled sharply, but his hands were relaxed, limp, as you moved onto the next one. With one hand, you reached forward and tucked both of his gloves into his jacket pocket. You lifted your eyes, your chin inclining just slightly. You were so close to him; his forehead was almost touching yours. But you didn’t move away, just basked in his scent of wind and cold and  _ sugar _ . His eyes met yours, a pink flush on his pale cheeks, his lips parted. “Stay a while,” you said quietly, smiling. “I’m sure Yagami and Matsuda can handle stuff on their own.”

“Yes, they can,” slow, absent, entranced.

You tilted your head, and your nose brushed his. He gasped, so soft and quiet, but you could hear it in explicit detail, and he moved in, his entire body, pressing closer, wrapping you in the halo of his warmth. You closed your eyes, and his warm lips were on yours, his bare hand settling gently on your upper arm.

Gentle, tentative, but it was so good, the way his lips moved on yours, the way a low grunt rumbled in his throat, the way his fingers curled into the material of your scrubs. You set a hand on his chest, tugged at his jacket to deepen the kiss, and his lips parted eagerly with his surprised noise. Then his hand was on the back of your neck to cup tenderly, bare skin on bare skin, and it electrified you, made air rush in harshly through your nose and flood you with his enticing scent.

“Doc!” Davis called down the hall, and you gasped, pulling away, panting deeply despite the tame nature of the kiss.

You turned your head to stare at the doorway. It sounded like he wasn’t coming down the hall yet. L nuzzled your cheek, his breath puffing against your skin, and then he stepped away, his hands falling back to his sides and burrowing into his pockets.

Your knees wobbled on your first step, but you were quick to regain your balance.

“Yes?” you called back after clearing your throat.

“We’ve got someone requesting you up here.”

“Coming!” You looked back over your shoulder at L.

He was standing there, watching you, his thumb pressed to his lips. But this time, it didn’t seem thoughtful – it was dazed, the way he passed his thumb over his lower lip, slow and gentle, tracing where you were kissing just moments ago.

“I…” he started, cheeks flushing, “I should probably let you be for today.”

You nodded, disappointed but understanding. He couldn’t just wait around while you attended to your appointments. “We can always talk later tonight,” you murmured.

“I don’t know if I will have time available. Light was talking about going through some more files, and the test results are going to be faxed to us either tonight or tomorrow morning,” he sighed. The disappointment was obviously mutual.

The DNA results. You froze. “Okay. We’ll see what tomorrow brings then.” You tried to keep yourself bright, but bone-deep dread was percolating throughout your body.

“Yes,” he smiled, this time with the smallest flash of his pearly teeth. “I like that plan.”

You walked him to the front and saw that one of your appointments had come in early. You discreetly touched L’s wrist in farewell, and he gave a nod, his dark eyes warm and soft, before he left.

You ignored how Davis and Kirsten nudged one another suggestively and focused on your work.

The DNA results.

You didn’t know what they were testing for exactly, but you feared the morning.

Just when things were getting good, it was all going to crash down over your head.

* * *

The silver glow of the screen threw him into stark chiaroscuro. There she was on the screen, stalking through the aisles, crouching to inspect the products. The camera shifted from when he had moved it earlier to watch her more closely.

She froze, looked both ways down the aisle, then sniffed the air.

She stood, stalked out of the aisle. She had her shoulders back in a relaxed posture, but tension still lined her every structure.

He switched tapes.

Black and white, she was in the checkout lane. An ordinary eye wouldn’t see it, but he could see the way she was getting more and more unsettled, looking over her shoulder. She definitely knew she was being observed. And then she looked up, right into the camera. Every time he watched, his reaction was the same – his breath caught in his throat, a breathless chill jolting through him to see the way her pupils reflected light like an animal in headlights.

She hurried from the store.

He rewound the tapes… and watched.

He rewound the tapes… and watched.

He rewound the tapes…

He slipped the tapes in his pocket.

He left.

* * *

The old fax machine hissed and sputtered. The three detectives weren’t the only ones crowded around it patiently – the whole precinct was there, waiting with bated breath as the machine printed out the faxes. The final paper leapt out from the slot, and the whirring died down into silence.

Everyone stared.

L took a deep breath and reached forward, gathered the warm papers in his hands.

Tension was thick in the air as he scanned over the report.

“Fascinating…” He looked up, met Light’s eyes. “Our murderer is human.” A collective gasp. “And that’s not all…” 

“... He’s a male.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a lot of things happened in this chapter, some clear, many not. Worry not, for all will be explained in due time. 
> 
> I personally feel our reader character to be a bit of a rocker chick, but I left it open for you to imagine any particularly genre of music you wish ;)
> 
> What are you liking so far? Do you have any critiques? I'm interested in hearing it all. 
> 
> l'll see you guys next week! Thank you for the loyal support thus far <3


	10. The Dilemma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little shorter than the previous ones, but I managed to cover all that I wanted to and didn't bother stretching it out more. The next chapter will pick back up in word count.

You couldn’t get yourself to fall asleep that night. Everything felt distorted and strange. Surreal, nearly, with the way your lips still tingled with the ghost of his lips, with the way dread twisted and coiled like a snake in your belly.

Oh god, what would he _think_ when he found out _you_ were the murderer he’d been hunting all this time…? Panic clawed at your lungs at the thought, at imagining the betrayal, the hurt, the anger. Would he think that you were just trying to seduce and manipulate him this entire time to distract him? 

As much as you wanted it, this _thing_ you had with him was the very last thing you needed, and you felt so selfish and awful and slimy for how much you desired him, for how all resistance was blown to hell as soon as you heard his voice.

_You even fucking kissed him._

You sat on the floor in your kitchen, your face in your hands.

You were a fucking monster, in more ways than one.

That noose was tightening, closing your airways. Your toes tipped the brink. You were about to fall.

You tried to hold back the tears that stung your eyes, but it was all for naught, and you cried, ugly, wracking sobs.

A gentle chirp caught your attention, and then long, soft black fur brushed along your arms. Lurk’s paws pressed into your knees, and he leaned up to butt his head on your chin.

You laughed wetly, tucked your face down to rub cheeks with him.

You pulled your hands away from your cheeks and watched the way he blinked up at you. You sobbed quietly and gently scratched him behind his rumpled ear. He tilted his head a moment, enjoying the contact, and then he was backing away. He trotted up to the entryway to the hall, and he rubbed himself up on the wooden frame, looking back at you and cooing. You stood slowly, followed him as he padded down the hall. He paused in the doorway to the bedroom.

When you reached him, he jumped onto the bed and stared at you expectantly.

You crashed onto the mattress, making the whole thing jolt, but Lurk still came up to you to curl in the crook of your arm.

His raspy, stuttering purr numbed your arm as you cried yourself to sleep.

* * *

Silver poured from the sky and bleached everything pale and eerie. The snow sparkled, the stars gleamed from their perch high above the horizon, and the wind blew gently, coiling through thick fur and making it ripple. Teeth flashed and sank into flesh, wicked claws swiped and tore, haunches tensed and recoiled.

Dark blood splashed on white snow.

An ear-splitting howl echoed into the night.

* * *

Your eyes snapped open, your breath stuttering in your lungs.

Your face was clammy with sweat, and Lurk’s black fur was stuck to your cheek. He remained curled up just in front of your face, your forehead pressed to his shoulder. You groggily rubbed at your swollen, crusty eyes and glanced over to the clock on the nightstand. For once, you had slept for several hours straight. It was now early morning, only a couple of hours before sunrise.

With a hitching sigh, you sat up.

Lurk cooed sleepily and blinked up at you, but he soon settled back down, his eyelids falling shut.

You tenderly stroked his back. “Thanks, buddy.”

You got up. There was never any point in trying to fall back to sleep – it didn’t ever work for you anyway.

For once, you took a piping hot shower like you used to before you became a werewolf. It was mildly uncomfortable, but it helped wash away the residue of your tears and the stress in your shoulders.

It would be what it would be, you reasoned. If it comes to light that you were the murderer, you had a few bullets stashed away with your name on them.

With that grim thought in mind, you wrapped yourself in a towel and drifted into the living room. On the side table next to your rarely-used couch, the answering machine blinked.

You frowned. It was amazing that the ringing didn’t wake you up. You pressed the button.

Your name first, in that low, quiet tone of his, and you shuddered, goosebumps erupted across your whole body. He moved on quickly, “The results came in. There were three sets of DNA at the crime scene. All human.”

Your pleasure drained away and terror quickly flooded in its place.

“Our murderer is a human male—”

Then you heard nothing but the white noise of your thoughts crashing against each other in your head.

Male.

_Male._

_Male?!_

“That can’t be right,” you muttered, wrapping your arms tight around yourself, L’s voice continuing in the background. Reeling, you couldn’t focus on his words anymore.

That… that had to be wrong.

Unless… You shook your head. There was no way that you were somehow intersex – you just finished your menstruation two days ago. From what you remembered from your biology classes in college, intersex individuals with a Y chromosome did not menstruate.

Which meant… there was only one other explanation…

You sank to your knees, a hand over your mouth, your forehead pressed against the end table.

_There was another werewolf._

It stunned you to think about – that you weren’t alone with this affliction, but then you realized that _of course you weren’t._

 _You_ were bitten by a werewolf – in order for you to become one, you had to have met one.

You glanced at your bicep. The ring of scar tissue was long faded, but you could remember it as clear as day…

* * *

_The roads were cleared of snow, but you carefully took each curve anyways. Here, the foothills were more than just that – the terrain was becoming truly mountainous, and the road wound its way down through outcroppings of snow-covered stone and sheer cliff faces. You were passing through a heavily wooded area, the conifers tall and snow-laden and green under it all._

_The cold winter sun was hidden behind a gray veil of hazy clouds. It looked like more snow was on the way, and that thought pressed on your mind as you headed back home. The next time you took the scenic route, it was going to be on a day that you wouldn’t have to worry about the possibility of a blizzard._

_You slowed on a particularly sharp curve, and there around the arc of the road, he appeared._

_Naked, in the snow, trudging along the side of the road._

**_He was caked in blood._ **

_You immediately flicked on your caution lights and pulled onto the shoulder of the road._

_Your phone was in your hands, and you quickly dialed for an ambulance. Up here, there wasn’t any signal, but hopefully_ **_something_ ** _would get through to somebody who could help._

_You glanced up, phone to your ear as you waited for it to ring, and you gasped, freezing._

_He was gazing over his shoulder, motionlessly staring at you through the windshield. Dried blood splashed in rusty brown splotches down from his mouth, onto his neck and chest. His hair was matted down but wild and tangled. With those piercing, blank eyes staring at you and the way he was hunched down, legs bowed, made him seem more like an animal than a man._

_You breath caught, phone forgotten._

_He didn’t move. Only stared._

_You turned off the ignition, palmed the pepper spray on your keychain._

_You opened the door, cautiously stood in the angle between the door and the vehicle. Something deep and primal tugged at your guts, told you to_ **_run,_ ** _but you held your ground – this man clearly needed help; he could die of hypothermia._

_“Are you alright?” you called, hoarse with fear._

_He suddenly ducked lower, eyes wider, his upper lip twitching._

_“Are you injured?” you continued, straying out on shaking legs._

_Stupid, stupid, stupid. You were stupid and too kind for your own good._

_You didn’t close the door, left it open, and you walked around it, toward the front of the vehicle. You flicked the safety off on the pepper spray and held it at the ready. You shivered at a cold wind that howled down the mountainside, and snow slithered from its resting place to crawl across the asphalt in writhing vines. You’d taken your coat off in the car – you were hot and it was in the way anyways, and now, in your thin sweater and T-shirt, you were regretting that decision immensely._

_“I want to help you,” you pleaded, and his whole body grew tense when you took what was apparently one too many steps forward._

_You didn’t even see him move, it was so fast, but the breath rushed out of your lungs when he slammed into you, tackled you right onto the hood of the car. He smelled of sweat and blood and snow, but that hardly mattered when he was lunging down to gore at your exposed neck._

_You managed to throw your arm up in time, defensively, and unfortunately your elbow just breezed past his nose. But he didn’t stop, and his teeth were sinking into your bicep, the inhumanly sharp incisors and canines piercing right through the sleeve of your sweater and tearing through the tender flesh beneath. He clamped down hard, and you screamed in pain._

_You so badly wanted to rip your arm away, but remembered, distantly, a trained instinct, that pulling away would make any tearing worse. Your fist clenched tightly in pain, and you remembered the pepper spray in that hand. Quickly, you switched it to the arm not currently held hostage in a rabid man’s jaws –_

_\--And you sprayed him right in the eyes._

_He reeled back, howling in agony, clawing at his face, and leaving red scratches behind. You kicked him farther away and rolled off the hood of the car. You were quick to scramble into the cab and slam the door shut._

_It was only seconds before you were starting the car and tearing off, tires squealing and smoking. You didn’t look into the rearview mirror until you were several curves away. You only saw rapidly receding trees and snow._

_Your heart was still pounding away, making your ears ring. Your arm throbbed in pain. You looked down. Your sweater was torn and stained with blood, and you were still bleeding heavily. That bastard almost took a fucking chunk out of you._

_If only you had been wearing your jacket when you got out of the car._

* * *

When you made it back to town, you trudged into the precinct, clutching some gauze over your arm to file a police report.

They never found the man in the mountains, and Theresa, the head veterinarian before you took the position, helped patch you up.

Not that you needed it. The bite was completely healed save for some scar tissue within two days.

Twenty-nine days later, you had your first transformation. You woke up in the forest, covered in blood, and not a scrap of clothing on you. You checked the trail cams that you’d set up to spy on the local wildlife, and several of them had the same message – memory full.

Because they were filled to the brim with pictures of a monster. Tall and dark and disturbing.

_Pictures of you._

It took you a year and a half to finally contain yourself and end the killings. In the meantime, you’d attempted to kill yourself via overdose, but it seemed that your new metabolism wouldn’t let you die so easily.

And you didn’t have the guts to put a bullet in your brain.

But you knew if there was another one then, there could be another one now. The original one – the one that turned you – he was dead, you knew that. You’d killed him on that last full moon four and a half years ago; his body was discovered, labelled as ‘John Doe’ and taken care of by the state. You'd recognized that face anywhere, so etched into your memory it was, when you were shown the photo of the body at the precinct you knew instantly it was _him._

So it couldn’t be him. It was a different male werewolf.

You pressed your fingers to your forehead hard.

The killings didn’t start again until six months ago, when you started breaking free from your restraints again.

You inhaled sharply. Or was it the other way around?

Did you start breaking free from your restraints _because_ the killings had started again? _Because_ there was another werewolf?

You gasped, jerking up and sprinting to the kitchen where a pen and pad of stationary rested.

You jotted down the thoughts flying through your head a mile a minute.

“I was bitten by the man in the mountains. A year and a half of killings, until he died.” You hastily scratched a timeline down. “The killings started again six months ago. This new guy killed that couple last week, but I was covered in human blood the next morning…” You nibbled on the end of the pen. “No one has been declared missing.” You remembered your dream, or perhaps it was a memory, of dueling a beast in the moonlight. “It was _his_ blood.” You pressed a hand to your face. “I didn’t kill that couple, but… I know I’ve killed people.” You weren’t completely innocent – you still were responsible for several of the deaths, you knew. From snippets of memories and dreams, from waking up covered in human blood.

But you went four years without harming anyone and anything. _That_ had to mean something – clearly, you had _always_ been capable of breaking free from the restraints, but, apparently, without a threat, you hadn’t felt the need to.

_You were territorial._

This wasn’t news to you – growing up, you had always been a possessive and jealous child, though you managed to temper those impulses as you grew older. But it seemed that instinct to protect, to keep your territory _yours_ , was only heightened when you became a werewolf.

For a year and a half, that other werewolf had been near, so you’d hunted him down and mowed down anyone who got caught in your frenzy. Four years of peace, four years of being the solitary apex predator of the valley, and then, six months ago, something changed – an intruder, an intruder you apparently sensed and felt the need to eliminate.

You exhaled slowly, nervously fiddled with the edge of the towel still wrapped around your body.

Suddenly, at the end of this dark, dark tunnel, there was a light.

It was a man. And he moved here six months ago.

You had a lead, and now you just needed to find him.

But you couldn’t let yourself hunt him down and kill him -- innocent people could still die in the crossfire, and then _your_ DNA could pop up when they test the corpses. It would only further complicate the ongoing investigation. 

Could you drop in an anonymous tip? It wouldn’t be believable if you simply told them that it was someone who recently moved in -- L certainly wouldn’t buy that. No, an anonymous tip would have to wait until you found the man. And hopefully you found the man first, though the weird recurring sensation of being watched gave you cause to believe that it was the other way around. 

Which brought you to your next concern -- just like you, he couldn’t go to prison. When the next full moon came, it would become a fucking massacre. 

You held your head in your hands. You had no idea what to do. 

You were caught between a rock and a hard place.

* * *

Later on, you replayed the message on your answering machine.

“The results came in. There were three sets of DNA at the crime scene. All human. Our murderer is a human male. This eliminates the possibility of an animal culprit entirely. I suppose it means that my need for your counsel has also come to an end…” A sigh. “… but I can’t say I’m pleased with that. I would like to maintain contact with you outside of the case…” Trailing off, shy. “… if you’re willing.” A hard candy clicked against teeth. His voice came back, low and soft. “I look forward to conversing with you again.” Then your name, quiet, warm, a farewell.

You didn’t delete the message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some questions have been answered. Others have not. More questions might have appeared in their place. L isn't physically in this chapter, but, don't worry -- he's gonna be in the next one again. 
> 
> *cackles* I can't wait until next week. I feel like you guys are gonna freak, too.
> 
> SHIT'S GETTIN' REAL.
> 
> Anyways, I really want to thank all of the wonderful readers who have left comments and kudos thus far! <3 You all are being so incredibly supportive and it's a little mind-blowing. 
> 
> See ya next week, fam!


	11. The Proposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummmm, hey, long time no see. 
> 
> First, I would like to apologize for the month and a half delay in updates. There were several circumstances that hindered my ability to post, but, fortunately, in the background, I did not stop writing chapters. 
> 
> That being said, I plan on continuing our Thursday updates from here on out. I want to get this story all written and posted before the end of the year, so the last couple of weeks of December might feature double updates. 
> 
> I really want to thank all of you who have left me kudos and comments. You are all so lovely and encouraging. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

A human male.

L pressed his thumb to his lip.

A human male.

He felt the pressure.

A human male.

But he was thinking of something else.

A human male.

Her lips, soft and hot, so hot. She’d been so warm when he touched her. Feverish, burning up, almost.

A human male.

He dug his finger in harder, enough to cause a sharp sting of pain.

Their perpetrator was a human male, but the revelation only registered as a minor blip on his radar. He couldn’t focus, not when the ghost of her lips pushed against his own, when a phantom of her hand curled against his chest, when he could swear he still felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck on his palm. The memory of her panting gasps afterward, the hazy look in her eyes, it haunted him, all through the afternoon and that night and well into the morning to where he was now, staring blankly down at the faxed report.

He itched under his skin with a restlessness that no amount of fidgeting could abate.

It was her, he could swear – she’d crawled her way inside him and made a home there.

He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, irritated with himself. He’d never let something like this get in the way before, and now he felt like a fumbling, pining schoolboy.

“I’m going for a walk,” he mumbled to no one in particular, though he was glad Matsuda was there to catch it.

He tucked his feet back into his socks and shoes and shucked on his jacket.

“Be careful, L,” Matsuda called, genuinely concerned.

L should probably be concerned, too; there was a deranged ripper on the loose, but he had to get out. The thoughts in his head seemed too big for that small room. He walked right past Esther, not noticing what she said to him or that she had even spoken in the first place. She watched him go, a frown of maternal concern creasing her wrinkled face.

He breathed deeply the cold air, felt how it threatened to chap the inside of his nose, how it stung in the wet cavities of his lungs. It wasn’t as windy as the day before, but he still relished the gelid breeze that slithered its way through the streets. He tucked his bare hands into his pockets. Though he wished he hadn’t forgotten his gloves.

He originally didn’t have a destination in mind, but that itching grew to an unbearable ache, gnawing at his insides, and he trudged onto the sidewalk, toward the intersection.

_ You’re free to visit anytime. _

He looked both ways and carefully crossed the street, then crossed the street again to get to the opposite corner of the intersection. And then he was walking over ice-splashed asphalt to go to the door. He was relieved to see her vehicle parked there in front of the clinic – he hadn’t even considered the possibility that she might not be in today.

He ambled up to the door, and only hesitated a moment with his hand on the handle.

He opened the door, stepped into the warm gush of air that whooshed through. Kirsten peeked around a woman standing in front of reception. “Hello, Detective Lawliet.” She waved enthusiastically. He gave a small smile in reply.

The woman turned, and in her hand was a furry, squirming bundle of brown and white fur. A puppy. L didn’t care about the way the woman stared before she turned to face Kirsten again. They continued talking, and L ambled over to admire the skillful paintings on the wall while he waited.

Eventually, the woman took a seat, all the while murmuring to the excited little animal in her arms.

“Here to see Doc?” Kirsten asked him as she typed on her computer.

“Yes,” he replied. Who else? he wanted to ask, but that would have been rude, and Kirsten didn’t really earn that.

“She’s attending an appointment right now,” Kirsten said, almost distractedly. “She’s got another one immediately after.”

L hummed in response. He didn’t really care – he would wait as long as it took to see her again. After all, he had more than enough thoughts to distract himself with until then.

The woman must have given up on holding the puppy, because suddenly it was scampering up to L’s feet, sniffing and licking at his shoes excitedly. He smiled, crouched down to let it sniff and lick at his hand, too.

“I’m sorry,” the woman sighed exasperatedly. “He wiggled out of my hands. He’s just so excited.”

“It’s fine,” L replied, “I don’t mind.” The puppy’s fur was still that downy soft baby coat, and L gently, playfully tugged on the little triangles of its floppy ears. The puppy growled, turned to try to nip at his hand with its little infant teeth. His smile grew wider. Cute. “What’s his name?”

“Well, the people I got him from were calling him ‘Crusty’ but I’m not sure I like it,” she replied.

The puppy pawed at him, and he gently batted the tiny feet away and pressed a reprimanding finger to its cold, wet nose. It immediately tried to gnaw on him. “While that name has character, he doesn’t seem like a ‘Crusty.’”

“That’s what I thought, too. What does he seem like to you?”

L frowned. ‘Matsuda’ was his knee-jerk response, but he decided that wouldn’t be a socially appropriate reply. He pondered it a few seconds more, watched as the dog latched onto a shoelace and viciously tugged on it. “He seems like a David.”

“David?”

“Like the biblical figure. David and Goliath. For something so small, he doesn’t seem to mind taking on foes much larger than himself,” he explained.

The woman hummed contemplatively. “I like it.”

The sound of a door opening brought his attention up, to where a young man was walking out with a carrier – a cat meowed plaintively from inside, yellow eyes peering from behind bars.  _ She _ followed him out, gave him some final farewells and care reminders as he carried his pet out.

And then her eyes were turning to L. First widening, then softening, warm but sharp, a spark of hot tension that the gnawing ache inside him was all too eager to answer. He stood slowly, the playful pup forgotten at his feet. “Hello, L,” smooth and quiet, slipping between his fingers like threads of silk. Her gaze broke from his own, and he released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in his cold-bruised lungs.

“Hello, Courtney,” she greeted the woman beside him who was now wrangling her pet.

“Hey, Doc,” Courtney murmured distractedly.

“Kirsten, would you mind showing her to exam room three?” the veterinarian asked politely, and Kirsten chirped an affirmative before gesturing for Courtney to follow her behind the door.

The door swung shut behind them, and L was standing alone in the lobby with her.

She stepped closer, her scrubs and lab coat rustling audibly. He wanted to lean into her, nuzzle into her lips, but he held back as she reached forward, her hot fingertips brushing the inside of his wrist. That heat crackled up, jolting right to his seizing lungs and his reeling brain. Then she traced down his sensitive palm, and his fingers twitched as she drew her own along them for the sweetest, briefest moment.

He grunted low in his throat.

How did she make hand touching so  _ erotic _ ?

The thought had blood flushing to his cheeks, and he shyly met her gaze again, but an answering heat lingered in her gaze, and he felt his shoulders relax.

Her head tilted, a playful smile on her lips. “How would you feel about job-shadowing me for a little while? Maybe just for an appointment or two?”

He chuckled, a sound and feeling so foreign to him, but a sound and feeling that he relished. He followed it up with a thoughtful, considerate hum. “I think I’m a little too old and a little too established in my current career path to job-shadow a veterinarian,” he answered honestly.

She pursed her lips in a faux pout. “Disappointing. I thought we would make great partners.” Her index finger curled around his pinky at that moment, and he got the distinct feeling that there were two levels of conversation happening at once. He flexed his pinky, tangled their fingers further. “I don’t want to let you go just yet.”

“Just because I won’t be job-shadowing you doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy watching a professional in her element,” he responded, choosing to reply to that last part with a gentle squeeze of his pinky.  _ Then don’t. _

“Some objective observation for the sake of slaking your curiosity, then?” she asked.

“Yes. I find your field quite fascinating,” he replied earnestly. Human behavior, he knew like the back of his hand. But he admittedly had gaps in his knowledge when it came to the animals humans shared their world with, and, as always, he was eager to learn more. Learning more about what she did, what she knew,  _ more, more, more _ . He was a greedy man, he knew, but he wanted to know and see everything about her.

Her smile grew brighter. She drew her hand away, and he reluctantly released her. “Follow me.”

He hummed and did so, and they both froze, stock still, at seeing Kirsten back at her desk. She seemed to be making a point of not looking at them, but L could see the flush to her cheeks, the nervous energy as she typed.

The veterinarian recovered first, and she simply walked to the door out of the waiting room with her usual confident grace. L followed, ignoring the receptionist at her desk.

The doctor rapped her knuckles on the wooden door of exam room three and quickly entered. “Before we start, I have a genuine inquiry for you, Courtney. Would you mind if L –” she cleared her throat, “Detective Lawliet observed this appointment?”

Courtney stiffened. “Is something the matter?”

The doctor laughed. “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just professional curiosity on his part.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, that’s fine, I guess.”

And L drifted into a corner to observe her in her element.

Though he would hardly say his curiosity was professional…

* * *

You smiled at the puppy squirming on the table as you washed your hands and gloved up. “So what’s the little guy’s name?”

Courtney sighed again as she tried to keep the little dog on the table. “Uh, David.”

“Interesting,” you chuckled. “Can’t say I don’t find it absolutely hilarious when animals have generic human names.” You stepped up, gently caught the puppy by the scruff of his neck. “Growing up, I had a cat named Greg.” You hummed, checked the puppy’s teeth and gums. David was eager to try to nip at and gnaw on your fingers, but you were unaffected. “About six weeks old. A little soon to leave his mother but nothing too serious. Eight weeks is normally the recommended separation time.” You raked your gloved hands through his downy soft fur. “Healthy skin and coat. Did you just get him today?”

“Yes,” Courtney replied. “You know the Red Heeler breeder? Alexandra, I think her name is.”

“Yes,” you grunted. You didn’t like most breeders on principle, and you certainly didn’t like Alexandra. She was all-around an unpleasant person.

“Well, apparently one of her females got tagged by a stray, so she had a mutt litter. She’s giving them away for free.”

You grunted again. Unpleasant behavior  _ like that _ , like mixed breed dogs weren’t worth anything, like their lives meant nothing.

“I’m a little nervous,” Courtney admitted.

You sighed heavily as you continued your preliminary inspection of the dog. “I wouldn’t be. He’s perfectly healthy. But since he’s got work dog in him, you’ll need to make sure you give him focused exercise. I don’t mean just letting him run outside a little. I mean things like taking him for walks, playing fetch, et cetera.” You turned to the tray next to you where you had some syringes lined up. The dog version of infant vaccines. “Alexandra is a particularly nasty kind of hobby breeder,” you started, slow, picking your words carefully. “I’m sure she probably told you all sorts of garbage about how mutts are less healthy and harder to train than ‘purebred’ dogs.” You saw Courtney nod out of the corner of your eye as you held the puppy still and swiftly vaccinated him. A lot of puppies, dramatic as they were, yelped and squealed, but David took it like a champ. You stroked his back as a reward. “And that’s exactly what it is, garbage. The complete opposite is true, in fact.”

You palmed a treat from your pocket and let him nibble it from your hand. “First of all, the concept of ‘dog breeds’ is an arbitrary man-made construction.  _ We _ created dog breeds by breeding together dogs that have the same traits that we found desirable at that instance. Since they are all the same species and share a common ancestor, and because of general, naturally occurring bloodline crossing, there really is no such thing as a ‘purebred’ dog.” The same thing could be said for the human concept of ‘races’ but you decided now was not the time to delve into that topic. “When breeders create ‘purebred’ dogs, they select dogs with the traits they find desirable, right? They breed them together to propagate those traits. Unfortunately, only a small handful of dogs have those traits. This results in what is called a ‘genetic bottleneck.’”

You glanced up to make sure Courtney was following. She dazedly nodded, and you continued, idly playing with David as you spoke. “A small population is expected to create a larger one. The gene pool starts small, and this is a huge problem. With the number of incestuous pairs that inevitably occur, it increases the likelihood of ‘bad genes’ being paired together in offspring. Therefore, ‘purebred’ dogs have higher risk of things like hip dysplasia, physical malformations, and even mental illness and personality disorders.”

“Mental illness and personality disorders?” she echoed, stunned.

“Yes, of course. They have brain chemistry just like we do. If that brain chemistry is thrown off, it can manifest as mental illness and/or personality disorders.” You lifted a shoulder. “I actually have a patient with clinical manic depression. If he isn’t medicated, he’ll chew on his own tail until it bleeds. He’s a pug.” You snorted at the appalled expression on her face. “Exactly. That’s why, as a veterinarian who cares about the well-being of her patients, I will  _ always _ recommend getting a mutt before a mix-breed if you’re worried about medical complications and vet bills.” You shrugged. “But, before that, I will recommend rescuing from shelters, no matter the dog, whether or not it’s a mutt, before buying from breeders or pet shops. There’s a lot of good dogs in need of forever homes.” You playfully ruffled David’s fur. “And I would say you definitely rescued this little guy. Who knows what Alexandra will do with the puppies no one takes…?” Your lip curled with disgust at the thought.

Maybe you would stop by and take one… You definitely didn’t need a puppy with how things were right then, but you would rather inconvenience yourself than let Alexandra “dispose” of them because they weren’t “purebred.”

Could Lurk even handle a rambunctious little puppy? Could  _ you _ even handle a rambunctious little puppy? You didn’t even have to deal with Lurk’s kitten stage – he was already an adult when you rescued him.

You sighed.

“David was the last one,” Courtney answered, “thankfully.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief. Problem solved. “Good.” It was probably for the best to not let your bleeding heart get the best of you again.

You finished the check-up and even convinced Courtney to schedule ahead to get David back in some months later to be neutered. You saw Courtney off, and L lingered behind your shoulder. So zoned in on your job, you’d nearly forgotten he was there.

“You were going to go get one of those puppies, weren’t you?” he asked, low and teasing.

“Yes,” you groaned, cradling your forehead in your hand.

He laughed quietly. That low, breathy sound that had the hairs on the back of your neck prickling pleasantly.

“I really don’t need a puppy right now but I would have probably ended up going to pick one up after work, anyways,” you sighed, rubbing your face. “When it comes to animals in need, I have very low impulse control.”

You glanced up. Kirsten was focused on her computer, all too obviously trying to let you and L converse as you pleased. You shook your head and touched L’s wrist. You looked him in the eyes as you backed away. He drifted after you, down the hall, and into the back, where the small lab -- in which you ran blood tests, among other things -- was. You quietly closed the door behind him.

“You love your job,” he murmured, feet away from you, but his voice sounded so close, like he was whispering intimately into your ear.

You shuddered pleasantly, turning to face him.

“Yes, I do,” you replied, smiling shyly. “Is it that obvious?”

His dark eyes were instantly locked on yours, and it was like the crushing suction of a black hole, the way they pulled you in and you just couldn’t look away. “Yes. From the way you handle your patients to the way you speak to the people that come in here.” His head tilted. His dark hair whispered over his shoulders. “It’s a very admirable trait.”

Your hands brushed the front of his jacket, feeling his calm breaths beneath your palms, and you realized suddenly how close you came to be to him, how you had unconsciously gravitated toward him.

He was bent close, his sweet breath gently wafting onto your lips, and when he said your name, it was husky but unsure and tipping up like a question.

“L…?” you responded as your thumb stroked over the line of the zipper of his jacket.

“I want to discuss something with you,” he croaked, blinking slowly, and he reminded you of a cat relishing in attention.

“I’m all ears,” you whispered, palms sliding down, around, your arms wrapping around his lithe waist. His own hands settled on your hips, and you breathed sharply, bumped your nose against his jaw in response.

“It could just be my imagination,” he began, breathy but wry, “but I feel a very intense mutual attraction between the two of us.”

You chuckled, low and airy. The material of his jacket hissed under your palms as they climbed up his back. He curved into you more at the touch. “I agree,” you murmured, tilting your head back up to meet his eyes, half-lidded and unfathomably dark. You made a low noise, unable to help the words slipping through your lips like sand through your fingers. “I would very much like to do something about it, L.” You untangled your arms from around his sides, only to loop them around his neck, to sink your fingers into the hair on the back of his head. It was so ungodly thick but so shockingly smooth, true to its glossy appearance. His eyes rolled closed, as if in ecstasy at that simple touch. 

He  _ whimpered _ your name, deep and broken and helpless, and making you melt, breathless as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I-I would, too.”

You tightened your hold on his hair, tilted his mouth toward yours to catch his moan on your lips. His hands suddenly left your hips, settled instead on your cheeks, fingers hot and shaking against you. That tentative chasteness from the day before was long gone, replaced instead by hot desperation. You couldn’t possibly pull him closer, not without tearing every thread of his clothing off his body. You growled at the feel of his chest heaving against yours with each of his gasping, wet breaths. His hands dove into your hair, disheveling it from the tight ponytail you’d had it tamed into.

He grasped so emphatically, desperately, like you were his lifeline, the only thing tethering him to reality, and you were just as fervent, gently scraping your nails along his scalp and nibbling on his lower lip. You pulled your hands from his hair, disengaged your lips from his. He whined, then gasped when your hands dove under the hem of his jacket, of his shirt to grasp up the flesh of his torso hungrily. He was hot and trembling and  _ delicious _ . You pressed your lips to his pretty neck to kiss and lick at the defined tendons, the marbling of dark veins beneath his pale skin, to relish his scent, growing denser and headier with his surging arousal. He panted loudly, made the sweetest noises in the back of his throat, tilted his head just right to give you as much access to him as he could. You mouthed ravenously at a spot that made a high, breathless moan punch from his chest.

You growled, turning your head that slightest degree to set your teeth lightly to his jaw in a sensual bite just as you gently curled your nails into him and scratched down his chest.

He jolted, “O-Oh god,” whimpering, then your name, breathless and  _ wanton _ followed.

The desire within you stirred a stormy, blistering frenzy, and your lip curled into a sexual snarl as you hissed “I want to  _ devour _ you, L,” against his flushing skin.

His hands stuttered down your body, whispering over your lab coat, then under, grasping at your ass and tugging you close. “The—” He gulped. “The feeling is mutual.”

You purred, your hands sliding up to hang on his shoulders, his jacket and shirt lifted up by your forearms, and he arched and squirmed when his belly was exposed to the cool air.

Not too far from the lab, a door slammed, and you both jolted, springing apart. Two sets of panting gasps filled the air, and your eyes met his, both of you with flushed faces and disheveled clothing and hair.

“This might not be the best place for this,” you laughed, husky, after clearing your throat.

His swollen lips tipped up into a breathless smile. “Perhaps not.”

You lowered your eyes as you adjusted your clothing, pulled your hairband out to fix your ponytail.

Intimacy spelled danger – you were  _ very _ aggressive in bed, and if you bit him and broke the skin, your secret would be out, and L would be cursed forever, just like you.

You couldn’t do that to him. You wouldn’t wish such a fate upon your worst enemy, much less…

You didn’t finish the thought. You didn’t want to ponder over how dear L was to you, though you’d only known him for just over a week, though he hardly knew anything about you and vice versa.

Yes, this was dangerous, this was something you shouldn’t do, this was so wrong of you, but you couldn’t help giving in to him each and every time.

“Do you have any plans tonight?” you asked, stepping close to smooth down the front of his jacket. You could  _ hear _ his heart racing beneath his ribs.

“Nothing that I can’t rearrange,” he replied. His forehead pressed against yours again.

“Excellent,” you murmured, playing with the zipper tucked under his throat. “Then I would like to invite you to accompany me home tonight when I am done with work.”

“I gladly accept,” he whispered back.

And you met his gaze, and you both smiled at one another, all contained eagerness and bubbling excitement.

You knew you were making the wrong decision…

… but he was impossible to resist.

* * *

“ _ Where _ are you going?” Light hissed as he watched his partner slip on his jacket as the minute hand ticked closer and closer to seven in the evening.

“I don’t really think that’s any of your business,” L sighed, not really paying attention enough to be irritated by Light’s incessant probing and unpleasant tone. He was too warm, too filled with hot, trembling anticipation to care enough to engage with his coworker at that moment. Her kisses had left a scorching impression behind, on his lips, on his jaw, on his neck. He still felt the delicious sting of her nails scraping down his chest.

He’d felt unsteady since their heated kisses, like he was stumbling drunk on the taste of her lips, on the feel of her hands all over him.

_ I want to  _ **_devour_ ** _ you, _ she had growled, and he believed it beyond a shadow of a doubt, so caught in the snare of her lips and her teeth and her nails.

He’d never felt sexual tension like this, like he was driven out of his mind with need for her, like he’d break apart if he didn’t have her, like his only salvation was giving in to his bestial lust in her intoxicating embrace.

He was impassioned, he was frenzied, he felt so primal and masculine in his erotic desire for her. She was so intelligent and so kind and so sweet, and he wanted to fuck her like an animal. And he knew she would be so enthusiastic in kind, ready to rend him asunder with her nails and her teeth and her keen hunger. He’d been surprised there, cloistered in the lab at the back of the clinic, by her ferocity, by her rapacity, but now he knew, and now he was ready to meet that energy with equal force.

“L!” Light barked, yanking on L’s shoulder.

L blankly stared at him. With that level of irritation, Light must have been trying to get his attention for some time.

“Yes?” he hummed, pressing his thumb to his lips, scraping his thumbnail on the sensitive skin and thinking about the way she’d nibbled on him.

“What the hell?” Light exclaimed. “We’re in the middle of a case – there is no reason you should be this distracted.”

“Relax,” L muttered. “There really isn’t much for us to do with the evidence at hand.” He wedged his thumbnail between his incisors. “Even with the results back, it really doesn’t change our scenario. We already planned for a human murderer, and a male one at that. Now we just know that we have been heading in the right direction all along.” He hummed to himself. They were already narrowing down where the murderer was staying based on the spread of attacks starting six years ago. Now it was to look for a man fitting his psychological profile that was living within that radius.

But that posed a problem; his profile was still murky. He’d originally thought it was a man who believed himself to be a werewolf – believed that he lacked self-control and, therefore, had a psychotic compulsion to kill.

But some of those things didn’t add up. The spread to the latest killings was too large for anything to commit within hours of each other on foot. Which suggested that the killer  _ wasn’t _ on foot. But if the killer was driving around to commit these murders, then that completely blew L’s werewolf profile out of the window.

That meant it was one of two things.

One, the murderer was driving between scenes to kill more people in a larger spread, probably to throw off the investigation, and the tie to the full moon meant something else entirely. Perhaps some pagan ritual…? With such an established pattern, there was no way that the timing of the killings was coincidence.

Or two, there were two murderers.

He pursed his lips to think of that second option. That made his job infinitely harder.

They only had one set of DNA on hand that could possibly belong to the culprit – that of a human male. The team that processed the samples even managed to discover salivary enzymes, suggesting that the DNA came from human saliva. While incredibly disturbing to think about, it told quite a bit about the depravity of their perpetrator.

They would have to wait until the next full moon – and the next round of attacks – to see if there would be any correlation between samples found at the scenes.

While it wasn’t the most satisfying option, it was the only one they had unless more evidence miraculously turned up between now and then.

The investigation was stuck. There was not much more for L to do.

He tilted his head when he realized that Light was still talking at him.

Light froze mid-sentence, his face turning beet-red with anger when he realized that while L had been staring at him, he hadn’t been listening in the slightest.

“I’m leaving for the night. I’ll be back in the morning,” L decided to tell him.

And Light blew up again, but L stalked out of the room. He could hear the rapid, seething Japanese all the way from the lobby. The parking lot was dark, hard to see from the brightly lit precinct.

The swinging flash of headlights easily caught his attention, and his breath caught in his lungs. It was her. He pushed through the doors and into the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH, THE CHAPTER WHERE I MAKE L PLAY WITH A PUPPY. YOU'RE WELCOME.
> 
> Also, seriously you guys, if you want to buy a purebred dog, please PLEASE research breeders before purchasing dogs from them. and please PLEASE do not buy from horrible hobby breeders like Alexandra. I actually grew up in a small town, and my mother got a puppy from a local Chihuahua breeder. Just like in this chapter, a stray mutt had gotten one of the females pregnant, and they were planning on drowning the mutt puppies that no one took. It was awful and I genuinely hope for the worst for those fuckers. 
> 
> That being said, not all breeders are the spawns of Satan, but GENERATIONS of breeders have caused the genetic crisis in purebred dogs, so just beware of the health ramifications, okay? Purebred dogs can end up being a ton in vet bills. They still deserve love, though <3
> 
> ANYWAYS, thank you so much for reading! I'm sure you all will enjoy the next chapter *wink wink nudge nudge*


	12. The Tryst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I imagine the reader to be in her early thirties, L and Matsuda are both 33, and Light is 26. 
> 
> ALSO, *eyebrow waggle*, this is the chapter we've all been waiting for! (Maybe, idk, since I can't really say what _you_ have exactly been waiting for) It's the smut chapter! That being said, I have one little content warning to tell you guys about -- at one point, the reader holds L by the throat but she is NOT choking him, I repeat, not choking him. No air circulation is being cut off at any moment in this chapter. Also, explicit consent is super sexy, you guys.
> 
> Also, if y'all want a soundtrack to go with this chapter, I highly recommend ["In Flames"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w22Bf7bLdxU) and ["State of Seduction"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xf-9B6LHmxo) by Digital Daggers (both of which are in the playlist linked in the bookend notes for this fic).

Your smile was so wide it hurt, and you eagerly rolled down your window. “Hey there, cutie. Wanna come for a ride with me?” Leering and catcalling like some of the valley’s resident creeps in their pick-up trucks. L laughed, that low, breathy sound, surprised and delighted. “I promise I’ll show you a good time.” You winked saucily.

He smiled, teeth flashing, shaking his head at you as he stepped around to the passenger’s side.

You rolled up the window, and he was in the seat and closing the door with a solid  _ thud _ . He smelled of cold and night and sweetness.

Now flushed and muted and shy, he smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” you huffed, and you were both leaning toward one another, and you pressed your lips to the blushing pink of his, just for a chaste moment or two, and then you were drawing away. Even such a bare second felt so good with him. “Buckle up, we’re going.”

You waited until you heard the click of his seatbelt to back out of the parking spot.

“Have you already eaten dinner?” you asked, drumming your gloved fingers on the steering wheel after turning onto the main road.

“No,” he responded quietly.

“Good,” you purred.

You saw his head turn toward you in your peripheral vision. You could  _ feel _ the question thrumming under his skin.

“It’s simply recommended that one eats  _ after _ they intend to do strenuous exercise,” you chuckled, sultry.

“Oh.” The sound left on a hot, huffed breath.

“That way you’re afforded maximum possible stamina,” you continued, lilting and teasing.

“I understand.”

You smirked. You could  _ feel _ his blush radiating off his cheeks in waves of heat. So badly you wanted to rest your hand on his knee, to just  _ touch _ him. So badly you wanted your hands all over him. You wanted no stone left unturned on his body.

But it could wait. It wouldn’t be long before you’d have him in your home, in your bed, staining your sheets with his scent.

“I hope you intend to stay the night,” you murmured, cutting him a quick glance.

“I do,” he replied. You could see it in the corner of your eye, the way his hand clenched against the edge of his seat, how it crept closer before retracting.

Without taking your eyes off the road, you gently grasped his hand and pulled it onto your thigh. He inhaled sharply, and the exhaled rasped through his lips. His hand stiffened, then relaxed, perfectly cupped the top of your thigh.

“Excellent,” you sighed. This was a good compromise from your own intentions, you supposed hotly.

The rest of the ride passed in deliciously tense silence, and you reveled in the way his thumb rubbed slow, tingling circles over the material of your scrubs. It made you want to squirm and adjust him higher, higher,  _ right there _ , but you held back, focused on getting to your home safely.  _ Oh god, _ it’d been so long since someone other than yourself  _ touched _ you.

It wasn’t too long before you were pulling into the driveway, and though you missed the heat of his hand on your leg, you were both eager to depart from the car.

“This is my humble abode,” you announced, raising your arms in an ironically grand gesture.

“It’s nice,” L murmured as you led him through the garage and into the side entryway. You kicked off your shoes and hung up your coat, and L was quick to do the same.

You flipped on the light in the kitchen. Probably having heard the garage door and the car, Lurk was already waiting on the island, but he froze at seeing the new human in the house.

“Hello, baby,” you cooed, reaching out slowly, giving him time to duck away from your hand if he so chose, but he stayed completely still, his mismatched eyes locked on L. “This is Lurk, my cat, my demon, my pride and joy.” You gently petted down his back, and he absentmindedly arched into the contact. “You’re the first person other than me that he’s seen in a while.”

L was hovering at your side, and he raised a pale hand for Lurk to sniff curiously. The cat took a moment to deliberate before ducking his head and allowing L to pet him. “You don’t have guests very often?”

“No, not really,” you answered. You left it at that and turned to a cupboard. You could have pounced on him by now, and L would have gladly accepted, but this tense anticipation was so warm and arousing and you wanted to linger in it just a while longer. “Can I interest you in a glass of wine? It’s Stella Rosa Berry. Very sweet.”

“Ah, yes, thank you.”

You poured two glasses of the chilled wine after easily popping the cork. You took both. “Follow me.” You smiled, gestured for him to follow you out.

You set the glasses on the little table next to the arm of the couch and flicked on the lamp in the corner of the room. It washed the room in dim warm light, more than enough for you to see by, but you knew it gave the room a relaxing, sensual ambiance. “Please, sit,” you murmured, gesturing to the couch. “Make yourself comfortable.”

He did, settled back onto the back of the cushions, languid and splayed out, much to your surprise, since you expected him to crouch like his habit seemed to be.

You stepped forward, between his knees, and his hands came up to settle on your hips, his eyes – even darker in this low light – affixed to your face, your lips as you leaned down, your hands braced on the back of the couch. Your hair, freed from its earlier ponytail, draped down, skimmed his cheeks and his ears and made him shiver.

You hummed, pleased, sultry, tilted your head to brush your nose over his. You could feel his breath on your lips, and his scent, away from the antiseptic scent of the clinic, washed over you in warm, sweet waves. Down, a little lower, and the slightest grazes of lips on one another. He arched, eager for more, but you lingered just out of reach. Your fingers skimmed down, down from the back of the couch, along the soft fabric of his white shirt, then firmer back up, your palm pressing along his sternum, smoothing through the dip between his collarbones, up his pretty pale neck for your fingers to catch and curl at his chin teasingly.

That languid touch had him panting against your lips, and you smiled, not looking away from his dark, dark eyes.

“Wait here while I go change out of my scrubs?” you whispered, lifting away just a few more inches.

The “I’m going to change into something more  _ comfortable _ ” line was pretty cliché, but you really did want to change out of your scrubs before going any further with him.

Dazed, he nodded. “Y-Yeah.”

You smiled, stood up straight. His fingertips caught at your hips a moment before he let them fall back into his lap.

You disappeared into your bedroom. In all honesty, you normally slept naked; clothes  _ and _ blankets generally made you way too hot. But you still had some clothes that you’d kept simply because you liked them, or out of some sad, ignored fantasy that maybe one day you would once again have someone to wear them for. You picked something simple – a satin slip with tiny straps that fell down to your mid-thighs.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror. In some places, the cool fabric clung like it was wet, like along the small of your back and around your breasts. It seemed you’d gotten a little bigger since last you’d worn it, but it still suited your purposes. You felt a little self-conscious about the prickle of day-old stubble on your legs, but you were sure L wouldn’t mind.

You padded out of your room to see L still sitting on the couch where you left him. In one hand, he held his glass of Stella Rosa, and the other was petting the mass of black fur curled on his lap.

He started to look up when a floorboard creaked beneath your foot. “I think I’ve been accepted—” And his words died on his tongue, his dark eyes roving over your body, his lips parted around his sharp intake of breath.

You padded closer, that hot hunger gnawing at your insides. You settled beside him on the couch. Facing him, your legs tucked beneath you, your left elbow on the back of the couch. “He likes you,” you murmured, reaching down to pet Lurk, who was loudly purring. “Do you like the wine?”

He licked his lips and nodded, his eyes flicking sideways to you for a moment. “It’s delicious. Do you want your glass?”

“Yes, please.” And he passed it over to you, and your fingers brushed his as you accepted it.

You’d wanted to savor it, wanted to draw out this tantalizing anticipation, but your sips were in quick intervals, and it wasn’t long before you were draining your glass and leaning around L to set the glass on the table.

Lurk grunted at having you suddenly invading his personal space, and he was quick to jump from L’s lap. A rough breath blew over your neck, but you swiftly moved yourself back into your own space.

But you did let your hand fall down, settle on L’s jean-clad thigh as he continued to nurse his drink. You rubbed sensually, felt the way the denim rasped against your palm, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed beneath your touch. You wanted to climb on him and kiss him and make him  _ gasp _ – ugh, you wanted it so damn bad – but you held back with barely-harnessed patience. 

Instead, you curled your fingers, just enough for your nails to scrape gently over the material of his pants, and he made a low, pleasured grunt.

“I think there are some things we should discuss,” you murmured, breathy and sultry.

He met your eyes. His irises were nothing but dark disks now, his pale cheeks flushed, the rim of the glass pressing into his bottom lip. He shifted to better keep your gaze, and the couch creaked, and suddenly, the enormity of the situation hit you with enough force to squeeze your lungs.

You had him here.

In your house.

In your  _ den _ .

It made something predatory and possessive purr to life in your chest.

You leaned closer, your head tilting forward, your hair slithering over your shoulder to drip and hang and brush his arm. He was sitting at an angle now to face you, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted and his eyes half-lidded.

“Yes? And what would they be?” That low, intimate tone, but now rasping with masculine arousal.

You shivered at the way his voice lapped over you, the way it stung you so pleasantly and brought your little hairs to stand on end, just as effective as the dark, cold water of the lake in winter.

And you so wanted to drown in him.

You watched the way his white shirt shifted as he set aside his emptied glass, watched the defined collarbones that you  _ knew _ lurked beneath the soft material.

“Do you have anything that you don’t like? That’s off limits?” you murmured, your hand shifting up his thigh, to his hip, to where the hem of his shirt fell, crinkled at the angle of his body.

“I’m not sure I do,” he replied. You inched forward, until you were just perched between his knees. You  _ saw _ his breath hitch. “You might have to be more specific.”

You hummed, set your hand on his chest, right above his sternum. Beneath, his heart was  _ racing _ , hot and hard, nearly making his ribs rattle with the force. Mm, he had a good poker face.

His own palm, his long, slender fingers, settled on your bare outer thigh. You knew your body heat was intrinsically higher than his own, but it still felt like he was searing you, right down to your nerves and bones.

“For example,” you began, the words hot and airy on your tongue, “I don’t like being degraded during sex.”

“That’s understandable,” he murmured, leaning back against the corner of the couch’s arm and its back when you climbed into his lap, your knees settling on either side of his narrow hips.

He was so warm, and he smelled so  _ good _ – his sweet scent was growing darker and headier with his arousal, and you felt the heat glowing between your legs percolate higher and lower, spreading  _ everywhere _ .

You whimpered, curled over him. His pale face and his abyssal hair contrasted so starkly in the dim light. You pressed your lips to his neck. You shuddered. You could still  _ smell _ yourself on him from when you had kissed earlier in the day.

“I…” You gulped, panting, turning your head to nuzzle his shoulder as his arms wrapped around you and slowly tugged you against his chest, until you were so wholly pressed together. His body felt so, so  _ good _ against yours. “I’ll admit that it’s been a long time since I’ve been intimate with anyone.”

His lips were turned against your ear and he gently mouthed at the lobe before he spoke, so quiet but so heated. “How long?”

“Oh god,” you groaned, shuddering. “Since before I moved here.”

His grunt of surprise vibrated into you. His palms slid along the smooth satin on your waist and sides. “Seven years?” Impressed, nearly, and he gave a low, humming chuckle. “How have you been managing  _ that _ ?”

You turned your head to set your mouth to his jaw and glare hotly into his eyes. “Lots and  _ lots _ of batteries.”

The implication made heat flash in his eyes before he lowered them. His hands were now on your back, on the crests of your scapulae, and his nimble fingers picked at the straps of your slip. It was a little ticklish, and you squirmed against him. “I can’t say I’m in any position to judge. It’s been just over two years for me. And before that, any instances were few and far between.”

“Oh, L,” you purred, your hands sliding up his chest to thumb at the collar of his shirt. “You better buckle up, then.” You smirked, lifted yourself back up to lean close to his face. He met your gaze again. “If you think I plan on letting you go after just once, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“I think it may be a bit too soon for you to say that,” he whispered, lilting. “You haven’t the chance to assess my skills yet.”

“I guess you’re right,” was all you said before you leaned close to kiss him. His lips were hot and his kisses were hotter, and you melted into them, let him catch you aflame with his palpable desire. He tasted of that sweet wine and lust, and you eagerly lapped him up.

You dropped your hips low, and his head snapped back, out of the kiss, to gasp and pant and clench satin in his fists. You felt him,  _ right there _ , straining against his jeans.

You growled low in your throat, in pleasure, in desire, in possession. He was there and he was hard and he was  _ yours _ .

It just took the slightest bit of rubbing to get enough pressure to make hot sparks arc low in your belly. You were so neglected and so incredibly turned on by him that any little bit of stimulation was enough to make you pant and gasp. You snagged him by his thick, dark hair to drag him back in for a hot, breathy kiss. The rough but tender treatment had him moaning against your lips.

And then he turned the tables on you.

His hand was in  _ your  _ hair, tangling and clenching rough but slow to pin you against him, and the other clawed under the hem of your slip to curl into the waistband of your panties.

“ _ Yes _ ,” you groaned, arching against him, your nails digging in and scratching languidly down the back of his neck.

His hand abandoned your underwear as soon as he had touched it, and instead skimmed under, under satin and over hot, heaving skin, smoothing around the curve of your waist, molding the arc of your ribs, and you both pulled from the kiss to watch his hand move under satin to cup your breast, his pale fingertips peeking out over the low neckline. He moaned, low and husky, and with the slightest tug, he was tilting your head back and mouthing down your neck as he kneaded your breast, skin-to-skin.

He murmured something between his open-mouthed kisses and flicks of his tongue. Something indiscernible, something foreign, something that rasped on his tongue and in the back of his throat.

“L,” you gasped, clawing at the fabric on his shoulders when he sucked hungrily at your collarbone. His tongue curled and twirled, as dexterous as any finger, if not more so, and the thought had you rocking on his lap in anticipation. He turned his head and caught the strap on your shoulder between his pearly teeth and tugged it down and away until it was drooping down your arm and until his hand on your breast was exposed to the air and to his dark, voracious eyes.

And his hand shifted, cupping your ribs, and his hold on your hair tightened, and then he curved you up into his swollen lips.

You  _ mewled _ at the feeling of his hot, wet tongue laving and curling expertly around your nipple, and then he sucked, gentle but intense, and you clenched your fists in his shirt. Oh god, you wanted to  _ scratch him up _ but you knew you had to hold back. “L,” you groaned, long and low, and you blushed at hearing yourself, how you called to him like an animal in heat.

You were lifted from his lap, but you could  _ feel _ how he squirmed, how his hips canted as you weakly bayed his name. The hand in your hair faltered, disappeared, and then it was wiggling between your bodies to plunge under the waistband of your panties.

You gasped, and then your breath punched out of your lungs at the accurate stroking of his fingertips. He murmured those husky alien words against your nipple, and then his long, thin fingers were playing in your hot wetness, making you buck and squirm and cry.

Oh god, it’d been so  _ long _ , and he was so  _ good _ , learning fast to touch you in ways that made you want to claw the upholstery off the couch. Your cries were wordless, lost, hot and needy, but you forced your hands off him. He was fragile and  _ good _ and you couldn’t hurt him, not when he was always making you feel so  _ good _ .

You’d never forgive yourself if you hurt him.

You were neglected and so  _ worked _ up, and it was building fast, this hot frenzy inside you, and then his fingers twisted in the most delicious way and his teeth nipped at your tender nipple and you were  _ coming _ , bucking and growling.

You tore yourself away from him, and you shook and shivered, facing him on your hands and knees on the cushions, and those fingers, those  _ wonderful _ fingers of his dipped between his swollen lips and his pink tongue flicked and lapped.

A snarl coiled in your chest, but you bit it back. That orgasm hadn’t slaked you in the slightest – in fact, it had  _ stoked _ your hunger, and something inside you clamored with violent passion.

You wanted to rip his clothes off his body and sink your claws into him and pin him down and ride him until he fucking  _ cried. _

He was  _ yours _ and you wanted to make him  _ feel _ it.

When he pulled his hand away from his mouth – his fingers glistening with saliva and  _ you _ – you surged forward to kiss him harshly, with teeth and tongue and lips.

“I guess – my skills – are – satisfactory – I take it?” he gasped between kisses and husky moans.

You growled at him, tilted your head to scrape your teeth on his jaw. “Bedroom.” And you stood, not even bothering to fix your disheveled clothing and hair, and dragged him up and out of his seat. “Do you have condoms?”

You sure didn’t – you were not at all prepared for this situation.

“Y-Yes. I took the liberty of purchasing some earlier today.” He let you tug him down the hallway. “They’re in my jacket pocket.”

You grunted, pleased. “The bedroom is right here,” you told him, and you tugged him close to press a few more hot kisses to his lips. “Hurry back.”

“I will,” and he was continuing down the hallway.

You stepped deeper into the dark of your bedroom. The faintest amounts of waning silver moonlight filtered in through the windows. You peeled the satin slip off. It fluttered to the floor. The light from the window washed over you as you pushed the waistband of your panties over your hips. They dropped to your feet, and you stepped over them.

You peered outside.

The forest was dark in the white winter night, and the waning moon peered from behind a break in the cloud cover. You took a deep, slow breath, and it helped ease that possessive tension writhing inside you.

The sound of feet padding over floorboards caught your attention, and you turned your head to look over your shoulder.

L was in the doorway, his lips parted as his dark eyes savored every inch of your naked body.

He said something, something in that husky, throaty language, and you shivered.

“What language is that?” you asked, turning to fully face him.

He blinked, dazed, watched as you stepped closer. He licked his lips and gulped when you were within arm’s reach, when you pressed your hands to his chest. “R-Russian.”

You simpered up at him, petted his cheeks sensually. His eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned into the gentle touches. An arm came up of its own accord to wrap around your waist. “Too shy to say things to me in English?” you whispered, mesmerized, gently pressing your thumb to his swollen lower lip.

His lips puckered against the pad of your finger, but you felt the blistering heat of the embarrassed flush rising to his cheeks. “ _ I _ wanted to undress you,” he murmured, eyes blinking open. The darkness of them seemed liquid with the warmth of his desire.

You pursed your lips. You didn’t believe for a minute that that was what he said, but you went along with it. You leaned closer, one arm draping around his neck and shoulders, the other slinking down to push up under the hem of his white shirt. “You can some other time.”

He smiled, slow and syrupy, and you tried not to think about it, about how this shouldn’t happen again, but you already knew it was.

You hummed. “Shirt off, L.”

“Yes,” he murmured, gently tossed the box of condoms on the bed, and you both tugged at the hem to pull it over his head. He shook his dark, wild hair out, just brushing against the unblemished marble of his shoulders.

Your gut clenched at the contrast of it. His hair and eyes were so dark, but his skin was so pale. You splayed your hot fingers on his stomach. He was lithe and lean, strapped with whipcord muscle that blew out into definition when he moved or breathed just so. It was the first time you had seen his bare arms, too, and though they were thin, his biceps and forearms still pulsed and flexed with muscle definition when he tugged you close.

You bent your head down to press your lips to the elegant, prominent lines of his collarbones.

“You’re gorgeous,” you murmured, your hands sliding everywhere, touching every inch of warm, smooth skin available to you. His own touch followed the path of your spine up to the back of your neck, down to cup around your ribs, then to your waist, then to your hips.

“I’m not,” he replied, his lips moving against your temple. “But you are.”

“No,” you growled, playfully nipping at a tendon on his throat. He gasped. “I’ve wanted to touch you all over for so long.” And it was no lie. Something drew you to him from the first day you met him, though it had taken some time for you to realize (or admit) your attraction to him.

His long fingers caught at your chin and tugged you up for another toe-curling kiss. You were walking each other back, and when the backs of your legs bumped into the edge of the mattress, you gripped him and whirled, pushing him onto his back on the bed.

He bounced on the mattress, eyes wide and hair disheveled on the blankets.

He was in your bed now. A purr rumbled beneath your sternum. You sank down, straddling him, your palms sliding sensually up his body.

You leaned close, your lips to the delicate shell of his ear. “The  _ things _ I want to do to you, L.”

He moaned your name, his body arching under your touch, his hands clutching at your hips, and you nipped at his earlobe playfully.

Your fingertips danced down his torso again, and you plucked at the button on his jeans. You popped it, dragged his zipper down. You climbed off just to tug his jeans down his legs. Heat spiked through you at the sight of his oh-so-evident arousal.

Yes,  _ yes _ , you wanted him, and you were so close to  _ having _ him. You clawed his boxers down with predatory enthusiasm. He was hot and flushed and leaking, and you ached to  _ taste _ him, but it would have to wait for another time. You straddled him again, relished in the feel of his bare skin glowing warmly against yours.

“L,” you whispered, staring down at him. He couldn’t seem to look away from you, his eyes affixed to your face.

He murmured your name in reply.

“You want this, right?” you panted, almost begging and pleading.

“Of course,” he croaked. “Of course, I want this. I want this with you.”

You leaned to grab the box of condoms resting so innocently on the blankets, but suddenly you were whirling. L had taken advantage of your shift in balance to pin you to the mattress. His narrow hips pressed between your thighs, his chest leaning down against yours, his feverishly hot hands grasping at your wrists and holding them to the blankets.

His hand climbed up, plucked the box from your grasp.

“I’ll do that,” low and husky against your ear, and you shuddered ecstatically.

He fully released your wrists, and you hungrily groped and scratched at him as he shuddered and hastily tore open the box, ripped a packet off the roll, and fumbled it open.

“C’mon,  _ c’mon _ ,” you hissed, raking your nails against his scalp, and he pressed his forehead against yours and panted as he rolled the rubber down. You instantly began bucking, writhing under him, grinding yourself against him and making him gasp and his hips pump against you.

He was slipping wetly over you, grinding against places that made growls rattle between your clenched teeth and had your nails catching against his heaving ribs.

“ _ Inside, _ ” you groaned, your teeth and tongue flashing against his pretty neck. His long hands splayed on the sensitive insides of your thighs, and pinned them, spread, against the mattress. “ _ Yes!” _ you cried, head kicking back eagerly when you felt budding pressure from the weight of the head bearing into you. His dark eyes were so wide as they met yours, his lips dropping open more the further he pressed into you. Your insides ached and clenched at him, so eager to feel something there after being empty for so long.

His head dropped, his hair tickling your neck, his fists clenching into the blankets, and husky words dripped from his lips as he pushed as far as he could go.

“L,” you moaned, panting, needy, overwhelmed so deliciously. He lifted his head, and you saw something crackling there, hot and intense, like white lightning in a summer storm, and one of his hands lifted to tangle roughly in your hair, the other gripping harshly on the outside of your thigh, and he arched you up to pin you against his body.

You growled with pleasure, raked your nails down his back, and his lips touched, so gently despite the way he held you, at the corner of your mouth. You whispered his name, tender, as he pulled his hips back slowly, slipping from the wet vice of your body.

And then he snapped forward, quick and rough and harsh, making your head snap back as a throaty, broken sound tumbled from your lips, and something raw poured from his lungs in response. And then he was giving it to you, wild and unhinged, and you keened with delight, bucking in time with him and clutching at him and kissing and licking at his lips, his neck, his jaw, whatever you could reach while he was gripping your hair so tightly.

Low, intense grunts thudded in the back of this throat, his eyebrows tense with concentration, but soon even that was faltering, and he was burning with you, something dark and needy, wild and feral rising from the dark depths of his eyes.

The bed was creaking vigorously, the springs whining with protest, but neither of you gave it any heed, not when you were so thoroughly entrenched in one another, pinning and holding and clawing and  _ taking _ . That violent passion was boiling within you, and even as you were having L, you  _ wanted _ L, your teeth aching and your lips twitching around noises that hardly sounded human anymore.

_ He was right there _ ; you’d just have to lunge forward and sink your teeth into him.

You tried to banish the thoughts, tried to lose yourself in the pleasure he was doling out to you like a punishment, but that only made it worse. Your hand slipped up, wrapping around his throat, and you felt his unraveling moans vibrate into your palm. You squeezed, just so, not enough to cut off any airflow but enough to just sate the possessive instinct coiling through you like poison.

“Gonna come,” he choked out, eyes rolling back when you gave him another possessive squeeze.

_ Yes, yes, give it to me, L. _

You were right at the edge, too, and then you were tumbling over when his hips pinned you to the bed and his hand dove between you to play against your most sensitive areas, and black flames raged at the edges of your vision as he cried out, broken, as your jaws clenched on nothing, as you clawed down his neck to his heaving chest.

He rocked into you, fluttering, riding it out, and he was babbling in husky, choked Russian and making you whimper.

He slumped against you, hand relaxed but still tangled in the strands of your hair, and he panted against your shoulder. His lips mouthed on you, and between his tender kisses, he murmured your name, hoarse and breathy, over and over.

You blinked away the stinging in your eyes as you rubbed his sweat-slicked back.

You felt so good you wanted to cry.

* * *

It was another round where you sat in his lap and bounced on him until you were both crying out and only some minor cleanup before you were both tucking yourselves under the sheet and blanket naked.

“I’m a little disappointed,” he murmured, hoarse and sleepy.

You hummed, arching a brow at him as you tucked yourself into his side.

He eagerly wrapped an arm around you. He gave a slow, innocent blink. “The sheets don’t smell like you,” he clarified.

You shook your head at him, a smile flirting at the edges of your lips. “No, I’ve been having to change them too often.”

He snorted, but his expression was wholly curious. “And why is that?”

You propped yourself on your elbow, cupped his still-flushed cheek in your palm. He kissed your thumb when you pressed it to his lower lip. “It seems I can’t run away from you, not even in my dreams.”

The area between his brows pinched just the slightest. “I didn’t realize you were trying to run away from me.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, lowering your head down to rest in the cradle of his shoulder. You closed your stinging eyes. “I haven’t been doing a very good job of it.”

His fingers were on your arm, holding you insistently, but you just turned yourself deeper into his body. “Why would you run away?”

Finally, you let him tug you up, especially since he was half-sitting up now, and turned your face up towards his. You reached up, pushed away the inky hair that was hanging in his face. Those dark eyes, once so blank and expressionless when you first met him, burned with an intensity that made your heart clench in your chest.

You cupped his cheek again. “L…” you sighed, tight and anxious. “You’re too good,” and it was a pained whisper.

“I’m really not,” he insisted. “I think you’re the only one who believes that.” He shifted closer, until you were laying back on the pillows, and he was half-leaning over you. “I’m a selfish asshole. I  _ can’t _ be too good for you. You, of all people.”

You shook your head, closed your eyes, unable to meet the fervent fire in his gaze. He didn’t know, couldn’t know. Even if his value was diminished by being a “selfish asshole” (you didn’t believe it was), he still deserved better than you.

But you weren’t going to argue with him. You  _ couldn’t  _ argue with him.

“Let’s not talk about this,” you whispered, gently tugging him down. “Just lie here with me, L.”

“Okay,” he whispered back, letting you pull him into a kiss.

He was too good to be true. All of this was too good to be true.

And it was.

Monsters like you didn’t get happy endings. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, when he's too shy to dirty talk you in English. 
> 
> The creators of Death Note mention they view L as having Russian/Japanese/English/Italian-or-French heritage (as mentioned in previous chapters, I picked French, since it seems most fitting with his last name, though I have no idea whether or not it's actually French [actually I just looked it up and it has Old English origins but I guess I can go back and change that detail at a later date, but, fuck it, I still pick French because why not]). That being said, I think L would learn a bunch of languages because 1) it's practical in his line of work and 2) just because he can. However, in this AU, I imagine that he learned a lot of Russian from household interactions and whatnot, making it more of a mainstay than other languages he learned later on in life. His other domestic languages will crop up later chapters, though. 
> 
> ANYWAYS, after that excessive and rather unnecessary tangent, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'll see ya next week!


	13. The Affair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah ha ha I hope you guys don't mind if the next couple of chapters are dappled with smuttiness, because have we got some material to cover, folks! Little relationship development here, little plot development there. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy!

You washed upon the shore of wakefulness from the warm sea of slumber. Every muscle was so relaxed, and there you were, melted between the sheets in a puddle of languid contentment. You sighed, reveled in the fuzzy feeling of being half-awake before it faded away. Your limbs slowly whispered against cloth as you moved slow as syrup. A warm arm was banded around your waist, and an aura of body heat tickled your edges.

A second set of even, sleepy breaths, a glow of sweet scents.

“L,” you murmured, to yourself, a smiling confirmation, and you nestled back to rest your edges against him, legs tangled gently, his arm tightening around your waist, his long fingers splaying on your bare skin and stroking groggily.

He huffed, something that approximated a yawn or perhaps a sigh, and he nuzzled your hair aside to press his lips to the back of your neck before he went pliant against the pillow again.

You both rested quietly, breaths deepening and limbs moving more and with more purpose as you both slowly woke up.

The room was still dark; sunrise was probably some hours away, but it wasn’t too early on this winter morning.

L sighed again, a happy, content, relaxed sound. “That’s the best I’ve slept in years,” he mumbled, hoarse and groggy against the back of your neck.

The sound, the sensation had your nerves tingling and awakening with a trickling warmth, but you still managed a languid chuckle. “Ditto.”

“You really put me through my paces,” slow and trailing off, as if he were about to fall back into the warm embrace of slumber.

You giggled and gently nudged his ribs with your elbow.

A sharp intake of air through his nose, more surprised than pained.

You carefully rolled in his arms, and he eagerly dragged you closer when the maneuver was complete.

His eyes were half-lidded, staring at you with sleepy warmth, but even still, it was so intent, like even now he was taking in every detail you had to offer. You chuckled at his disheveled hair and reached up to gently pull your fingers through it.

He closed his eyes, sighed again, basked in it. Even in the dark, he was easy to see; he was so pale he stood out in the dim light. Your enhanced night vision brought it out even more, and you could even see the scratches you’d left on his chest and even on his neck. You winced. He wasn’t going to be able to cover those up all too well.

You shifted your hand away from his hair and down to his neck to gently palpate a red line with your thumb. His eyes flinched closed tighter, and his breath hitched slightly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, leaning close to tenderly press your lips to the wound. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Mm,” he hummed, his eyes opening as you leaned back. He caressed you where he was loosely holding your hip in his hand. “It’s fine. I liked it, actually,” and he slumped again into the pillows as your fingertips kept tracing over their visible paths the night before. “I found it incredibly erotic.”

“The scratching?” you whispered, kissing his collarbone, his sternum, along his gently defined pectoral muscles, perhaps only defined because of his complete lack of body fat.

His hand settled in your hair, tenderly stroked through it. You sighed against his skin. You could feel the prickles of goosebumps forming under your hands, could feel the way his heart was starting to beat faster beneath his ribs.

“The scratching, the hair-pulling, even when you held me by the throat. It was sensual,” he said, husky, but not because he had just woke up anymore.

He inhaled sharply as you dragged your nails down his side again, though hardly hard enough to leave even temporary red marks.

“Like that?” It left you as a rolling purr, and he shuddered against you.

“Yes,” he replied, his breath trembling with the slightest laugh and something else entirely. “Exemplary demonstration.”

You hummed, your breath washing hot over his skin, and you delighted in his continued shivers. You tilted your head, palmed just back of his pectoral muscle, and dragged him close as your tongue rolled from your mouth to stroke over his nipple.

He released a high, breathy sound, and his body jolted against the wet contact of your tongue. You gave it a short, gentle suck that made him offer another one of those tasty noises, and then you were trailing your attention away.

He still smelled sweet, even through the scent of sex and sweat, and it was a mixture that might have ordinarily curled your nose, but now, it was a scent that made you hunger. Because when you pressed close to kiss and lick at his skin, you could smell it – _you_ , your scent, it lingered on him like a watermark.

You breathed out harshly against his stomach, and you pushed at his hip to flatten him on his back on the mattress.

Both of his hands were in your hair. He reverently stroked the strands between his fingers, and those darks eyes were focused down on you as you settled between his thighs, his knees brushing your hips.

He was growing hot and fat with desire against your chest, but you settled languidly against him, your cheek on one side of his stomach, your face tilted toward him as you stroked your palm back up his lean torso seductively.

Eyes dark, face flushed, lips parted, then puckering against your thumb when you touched him in that way that was quickly becoming habit. You breathed his name, turning your face against his skin to press kisses down, down, down.

You devoured him.

* * *

After you finally managed to drag yourself out of bed, you did a quick load of laundry so L could wear clean clothes back into town.

“What am I supposed to wear in the meantime, hm?” he’d asked in a monotonous voice that still managed to be teasing.

“I can’t say I mind if you walk around in the nude, L,” you’d replied, giving him a sultry wink.

He laughed then. “I’m sure.”

His body was like a marble statue, pretty and lithe, but the red lines marking him brought him to new levels of art. You knew you should feel more guilty than you did, but your animal side purred at the thought of marking him up so thoroughly. But you gave him clothes anyway – an old band tee and some faded sweatpants – because you knew you’d never be able to keep your hands off him if he walked around without them.

It didn’t take long for you to make pancakes for breakfast, and you watched with an arched eyebrow as L absolutely smothered his food in maple syrup.

“Would you like some pancakes with your maple syrup?” you asked wryly, taking a bite of your own.

“Hm?” he glanced at you while he sucked the excess syrup off his fork between bites.

You shook your head, chuckling quietly. “I said, ‘Would you like some pancakes with your maple syrup?’”

One side of his mouth pulled down into a lop-sided frown, and a tine of the fork caught on his lip comically. “No, I’ve got enough of everything here. Thank you, though.”

You laughed to yourself and finished up your food and rinsed your plate.

Lurk meowed loudly from down on the floor, and you crouched down. “Hey, buddy. I missed you last night. Was there a strange man in your bed?” you asked, playful, as you scratched under his chin.

L snorted from where he was still sitting at the island. From all the times you’ve been around him when he ate – only a handful of times now, admittedly – you gathered that he was a slow eater. He took his time and savored every bite. “I think all the noise we made scared him away.”

“Probably,” you replied. You may be a sexual person by nature, especially since becoming a werewolf, but even so, you hardly made that much noise when you were on your own. “He’s never heard me sound like that.”

“What, like you were possessed by a demon and being vigorously exorcised?” Flat and monotone, but you could hear the teasing edge hidden underneath it.

“Hey!” You snapped your head up and pointed at him threateningly, even as blood rushed to your cheeks.

But he didn’t stop, staring at you blankly, his cheek smushed into his palm. “And I _look_ like I spent the night exorcising demons, so I suppose the simile is fitting.”

You pouted something fierce. “I’m pretty sure _I_ was the one doing the exorcising this morning.”

His eyes rolled up thoughtfully, and he raised his shoulders. “I guess that’s true.”

You heard the washer ding from deeper in the house, and you whirled away on your heel. “I’ll be right back.”

* * *

L pushed away his plate after all but licking the excess syrup off it. He sighed, dragged the fork tines over his lower lip. He hadn’t had so much sugar in such a period of time in many years. She was making all his bad habits crop up again.

He really couldn’t say he minded too much, especially since she seemed to be more than willing to help him burn off the calories.

He sighed, relaxed onto his elbows on the pseudo-granite surface of the island. He felt so warmly languid, a sure symptom of a night of absolutely incredible sex, but, at the same time, he was sore in places that he didn’t even know could get sore. She’d covered him in burning, aching scores, and, as twisted as it was of him, he loved it. They’d so thoroughly wrecked each other, and he liked having physical reminders littered all over his body, on his skin and in the whining protest of his abused muscles.

He felt claimed, marked, in more ways than one. It was something he’d never felt before, but, in its burning intensity, something so stunningly easy to recognize.

A low, cooing chirp echoed up from by his feet, and then the light thud of weight on the countertop, and there Lurk was on the countertop, with his languidly blinking half-blind stare. L proffered a hand, and Lurk was more than willing to butt his silky head into L’s palm. A stuttering, rumbling purr echoed, and L smiled at the cat so eagerly loving up on him.

“I guess pets really are like their owners,” L chuckled lowly, watching as the cat curled his lip and rubbed the scent glands on his gums over the edges of L’s fingers and palms.

“Your clothes are in the dryer.” Her voice rang so suddenly that it made L startle in his seat a bit. Lurk was immediately down on the floor.

He looked over his shoulder to see her padding back into the kitchen, with a black cat suddenly twining around her legs. Her hair was still tousled from sleep and sex, but her eyes were so bright, so alive, even as they took on that dark, sensual tone, even as her hands were suddenly on his back, tracing featherlight up his spine to settle on his shoulders.

She leaned down, her hot breath on his ear, and he closed his eyes and shuddered.

“I was planning on taking a shower. Would you care to join me?” she purred, her lips and humid breath brushing and against him with each syllable on the delicate cartilage.

Unconsciously, his head tilted to bare his neck to her searing lips, an offer she eagerly accepted. “Not the old ‘conserving water’ cliché.” He was trying his best to be witty and monotonous, but already his breath was short. How many times could she draw desire from his veins as easily as she would take blood with a syringe, he wondered.

“Oh, I have no such intentions,” she replied, her voice thickening into that sexual growl that made his stomach drop and burn with arousal, “I just want to see you dripping wet.”

His breath stuttered in his lungs when her teeth flashed and caught at a tendon on his neck. “Who am I to stifle such an endeavor?” he croaked.

Her nails curled ever so slightly against his shoulders, and the image flashed in his mind, of a mouse caught in the cage of a cat’s claws – she had him, she wasn’t going to let go, and he really didn’t want her to, either.

* * *

You knew, to some extent, that such a thing existed outside of rose-tinted romance novels; sometimes, rarely, when finding a wildly compatible sexual partner, that a sort of frenzy ensued. Sex, after all, was an intimate bonding experience for animals as social as humans, and increased amounts of it also generally meant an increased likelihood for fertilization. It was the biological equivalent to the saying “get going while the getting is good.” Add onto it your undersexed condition in the past seven years, and your otherwise voracious libido… and, well, it made one hell of a concoction.

In other words, the getting was _very_ good, and you wanted nothing more than to get going.

You couldn’t keep your hands off L. At first, you were sure you could contain it to nights you both had reserved for such a time that you could sneak him back home with you. After all, he had the case, and you had your job, and the looming threat of your own investigation hung over your head. Your life was balancing precariously on a tight rope over an abyssal gorge, and the last thing you needed was some torrid affair with one of the men that could lead to your doom.

Yet here you were, unable to control yourself as the stolen kisses and clandestine touches and pleasured gasps bled over from secluded nights in your home to quick romps in places where quick romps should never take place. Like, say, over your desk while you were supposed to be performing night duty at the clinic and while L was supposed to be tucked away in his room at the bed and breakfast, or back in the lab when Davis or Kirsten could easily walk back there and see L’s hand in your pants and his lips on your neck while you clenched the shoulder of his shirt between your teeth to keep the sounds that bubbled in your throat where they belonged.

Or maybe that one time in the early morning at the precinct, when L took you right on the table that Light had claimed for his own for the duration of their stay here.

It should stop – it should never have started – but he was intoxicating in ways that alcohol never was and never will be again. You felt like a goddess under the worship of his awed fingertips, like a seductress under the heavy attention of his rapt gaze, like an animal under the pressure of his hot lust for you.

It was electric and untamable, this thing, so dense and dynamic like it was its own entity, a new species of animal the likes of which you would have never imagined in your most lurid dreams.

But the most disturbing thing was that it was more than just sex, more than just a physical attraction.

It was tender touches and witty banter and earnest, contemplative conversations at midnight. It was rambling about your day and listening to his tales of cases past. It was fitting into each other’s edges and grooves so easily, like puzzle pieces sliding and clicking together.

And that was alarming, so, so alarming.

But you just couldn’t stop.

* * *

You were rifling through the file cabinet. You were pretty sure one of the digital files was incorrect, so you decided to scrounge through the physical copies to see if it was a transcription error or a flub when you had written it down.

Between the hiss of the drawers opening and closing, and the whisper of sheets of paper shifting against one another, you could hear the slow, measured steps down the hall to your office, until they eventually settled at the threshold. A pause, but if you focused, you could hear the calm breaths, the steady _lub-dub_ of his heart beating, the periodic shuffling of fabric as his chest expanded and contracted on each inhale and exhale.

Then, the quiet click of hard candy against molars.

“Hello, L,” you greeted, glancing once over your shoulder. He lingered in the doorway like a specter as he leaned against the doorjamb and watched you with those dark eyes.

His lips quirked up into that small, toothless smile, and, with a grin, you turned back to the task at hand.

He drifted closer, the scent of winter and butterscotch preceding him in a sweet, crisp wave. He was at your back, and an aura of chill emanated from him. He had just arrived, presumably walking from the precinct.

But you had seen him just that morning, right before you dropped him off at the bed and breakfast before you came to work.

He murmured your name then, quiet and low, and something warm stained the edges of his monotonous voice. Closer, the front of his jacket brushed the back of your lab coat, and his spidery hand slithered beneath the white edges to creep up the back of your thigh. A hum purred in his chest, and then his hand was on your ass, squeezing lightly.

You chuckled, turned your head against his chin where it was hovering just over your shoulder. He looked blasé, bland, and you quietly eyed every detail, so explicit this close up, before you spoke. “Enjoying yourself, L?” you snickered.

He tilted his head to meet your eyes. Another smile, this one a little wry. He gave you another little squeeze. “Immensely, thank you for asking.”

You laughed quietly. It felt good, really, to be so close to someone, to be able to touch and be touched so freely. So you didn’t protest when his hand raised, and he languidly banded his thin arm around your waist from behind, the lab coat wrinkling and bunching between you.

You wondered why he came to visit. Normally, he vented about Light or Matsuda or the case, or sometimes wanted to discuss other things. But deep down, you knew, and you feared this truth, the truth that he came just to see you and everything else was just an excuse.

So, you two stood there quietly as you rifled through the file cabinet. He was half-wrapped around you, his sharp chin settled on your shoulder, and when you glanced at him through your peripheral vision, you saw how his eyes were closed, as if he were asleep, embracing you.

You weren’t sure how much time passed as you listened to his gentle breathing, the clicking of a shrinking hard candy on his teeth, to the papers shuffling together. When you found the file you were looking for (it honestly took longer than normal because of your distraction), he turned his face into your neck, deeply inhaled, sighed through his nose, and gently pulled away. He smoothed the lab coat down and gave your butt an appreciative pat.

“Are we still on for tonight and tomorrow?” you asked quietly, settling into your desk chair.

He propped himself up against your desk and gazed down at you with that unending intensity of his, as if he were observing the most fascinating thing in the world. When he didn’t answer, you looked back up at him.

He blinked, slow and wide, as if suddenly registering that you had been talking to him. “I don’t see why not,” he replied.

You smiled widely. “I can’t wait.” A week and a half of sex with him, of simply spending time with him, and you still couldn’t get enough of L. He smiled back, and then his hand, still cold from the outside, cupped your jaw, and he leaned in for a kiss. It was slow and chaste, but it felt so _heated_ , the way he savored your lips with gentle motions of his own. He tasted sweet and buttery, like the hard candy he normally kept in his pockets.

You hummed, content, licking your lips as he pulled away, his hand falling back to his side.

“I suppose I’ll see you then, Doctor.”

After he left, you overheard Davis and Kirsten talking quietly at the reception desk.

“You know, I used to think that he’s really weird – hell, I still do, but they seem good together,” Davis commented quietly.

Kirsten murmured a distracted but genuine agreement.

“And I think you were right.”

Typing, and then a pause, as though Kirsten finally bothered to look up at him. “About what?”

“That she wasn’t happy. Because I think this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

You held your hand over your mouth and set your forehead on the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was more of a development chapter, but I promise the next one has a little more meat to it. It's actually got a lot of shit packed into it, it's like 5000 words or something, too. Pretty integral to character and plot development. 
> 
> ANYWAYS, thank you for reading. See ya next week?


	14. The Burial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there is some serious shit that happens in this chapter. I want to mention specifically the death of an animal. If you want to skip the scene where this occurs, it is marked off by a triple line break on both sides. It is summarized by dialogue between L and the reader later on, so that you don't miss anything.
> 
> However, if you want to skip the rest of the chapter after the triple line break, click the link that says "see the end of the chapter for more notes." I have a summary of the rest of the chapter down there.

He gasped in your ear. Hazed Russian words slurred and stuttered on his panting tongue, and you groaned, long and low like an animal, as he brought you to that sweet precipice again. You could _feel_ him tensing behind you, drawn tight in an arch like a nocked bow, and then his hips were stuttering as he cried out, low and hoarse, his face nuzzling against the side of your neck.

“ _L_ ,” you moaned, reaching up and back to gently fist your hand in his hair as he feverishly mouthed at your shoulder between hot breaths.

“ _Fuck_ , _f-fuck_ ,” he spat, lurching again when you gave those humid inky locks a slight tug.

And then you were both collapsing to the side, L’s arms wrapping tight around you and pulling you close despite the sweat slicking both of your bodies.

“Woman, you’re going to be the death of me,” he gasped, his breath washing over your shoulder in blistering waves, though it felt cool against your damp skin. “But what a way to go.”

“L Lawliet, cause of death – amazing sex,” you giggled, leaning further back into him. You felt languid, a little fatigued, your chest still heaving and your heart still pounding.

“ _Frequent_ amazing sex. What are the odds,” he sighed, and though you knew he could calculate probabilities at the drop of a hat, he seemed content to let his inquiry remain a rhetorical one.

You both basked in the companionable silence that followed as he held you and as you gently traced your fingertips along his arm.

“I think I’m going to fall asleep,” he murmured some minutes later, his voice slurred and heavy with slumber.

“Then go to sleep. You earned it,” you snickered, patting his arm. After all, you’d been all over each other the night before, and now most of today – you had a day off, and he decided to take the day off, too.

He hummed his assent.

“I’m going to clean you up, though.” Not taking the condom off right away probably caused a mess.

He hummed again.

So you slowly extracted yourself from his arms, even though he grumbled drowsily about it. When you came back with a damp cloth to wipe up the sweat and other messes from his body, he sighed your name. You smiled down at him, brushing his hair out of his face and pulling the covers over him. He muttered something again and latched onto a pillow to drag close to his body. You didn’t bother hiding your chuckle. He could be so cute. Maybe you’d make him some chocolate chip waffles when he woke up.

You padded to the bathroom to freshen yourself up a bit, and as you were dragging a hairbrush through the disheveled and tangled locks of your hair, Lurk jumped onto the counter and briefly rubbed against you before he was curling up in the sink basin.

You shook your head at him. “You’re going to leave a bunch of hair in the sink again.”

He looked up at you and blinked slowly before giving a quiet _brrrp?_

“I hate it when you act all cute like that. Get outta here with that shit.”

But he only laid his chin on the rim of the sink and closed his eyes.

You sighed at him but let him be, and you slowly slipped on a bathrobe. There was no point in getting fully dressed when you were sure you’d just end up naked again within the next few hours, but with how things have been lately, you didn’t feel comfortable walking around naked anymore.

That prickling lingered on your skin, especially in town, but sometimes the feeling followed you home, and you weren’t sure if you were being paranoid or…

If you were being stalked.

You’d walked your property several times, and never did you find any strange tracks or smells, but you weren’t sure if that meant anything.

Your stalker could just be very, very skilled.

It left you on high alert, especially when L was here. Something protective and possessive cropped up, something that made you want to stand outside on the porch as he slept to make sure no one and nothing could come in and hurt him.

For now, you ignored that nagging itch and instead ambled into the kitchen.

The grayish white light of an overcast winter morning slanted hazily into the room, and you drifted through it to bring a cup down from its resting place to fill it with water and quickly down it. All of the exertion made you thirsty, and you were sure L was faring no better, even if he was managing to sleep through it right now. So, after drinking several cups of water, you filled it again and quietly padded into the bedroom to set it on the nightstand.

He was sleeping soundly, eyes closed and chest moving with each slow breath. The dark circles around his eyes were gradually reducing. Sex, after all, was a great sleep aid, and now L was having sex in abundance. You bit back your chuckle at the thought. You were literally fucking up his sleep schedule in the best of ways. You worried for a minute that he wouldn’t be able to sleep later that night if he napped for too long. No, you would manage to tire him out again, you were certain.

Poor man. He really didn’t know what he was signing up for when you started this.

You pushed away the darker thoughts and padded back out of the bedroom.

You were in one of your many restless moods, unable to sit and relax, unable to lay down. You dug around in your pantry to see what ingredients you had on hand. Maybe you could bake something.

And then your spine stiffened, ramrod straight, as you heard the rumbling of an engine. A car was pulling into your driveway. You leaned around to stealthily peak out the kitchen window and groaned in irritation.

What the hell was Yagami doing here?

You looked down your attire. Well, the nosey fucker was just going to have to deal with the sight of you in a bathrobe, now wasn’t he?

You growled and tugged tighter at the fuzzy belt on it. L had said that Yagami was getting more and more fed up with the situation, so you weren’t all together too surprised that he had decided to stop by and try to collect his partner.

You waited until Yagami was knocking on your front door, just shy of pounding on it. You rolled your eyes and stalked closer to the door.

Cold air breezed in when you threw the door open to level Yagami with the most frigid glare you could muster.

“Can I help you, Detective Yagami?” you asked, sickly sweet, though you kept your face blank.

Yagami’s perfectly tweezed eyebrows twitched. “Is L here right now?” He glared down at your apparel.

“My eyes are up here, hon,” you drawled. His lip curled, his building snarl finally showing. You tilted your head. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business whether or not I have anyone in my house, even if you are looking for L.”

“L _is_ my business,” Yagami snapped, finally bristling, eyes glazing with righteous fury. “He is _my_ partner, and we are working on a case!”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully. “Hm, no. He’s _not_ your business, since today is a today he _officially_ took off. He even went through all of the proper channels.” You leaned against the door jamb and pretended to inspect your cuticles. You could stand there with the door open all day – the gelid air didn’t even chill you. “It’s not like you’re his boss,” your eyes cut back up to him sharply, “or anything.” He stiffened. “In fact…” You playfully gestured with your finger. “… aren’t you… the same rank?”

He inhaled deeply, chest expanding, air hissing through his teeth.

You smirked and lifted a finger to your pursed lips. “Shhh, my _guest_ is sleeping.” Sultriness bled into your tone. “He’s been hard at work _all morning_ and he deserves the rest.”

He sneered, disgusted, reeling back at the words as if burned.

“He needs all the sleep he can get because I’m hardly done with him,” you purred, continuing to pile it on, a malicious giddiness building up in your chest. “Now, Detective Yagami, if you have any more concerns, please call my home phone number. If you show up on my door again, I cannot ensure that I will be free to answer it. Have a good day, now,” you sang, waving, and slammed the door shut in his face. He no doubt heard the deadbolt click into place as you flipped it.

You strutted deeper into the house, so pleased with yourself.

L was sitting up in bed, tiredly rubbing his face when you walked in. “What was that sound?”

“Ah, that was probably my slamming the door in your partner’s face.”

He peeked at you from between his long white fingers. “Light was here?”

You smirked, climbed onto the mattress next to him, and L gladly laid back as you draped yourself across his chest. “Yes. All but _demanding_ to see you.”

L sighed, but his hand stroked tenderly at your hair.

“I basically told him to fuck off,” you said, and your next words came on a husky growl as you kissed at L’s tender white neck, “You’re all _mine_ today. I’m not sharing you with him.”

“That sounds spectacular,” he huffed, his hands languidly finding their way through the seams of your bathrobe to palm at your hot flesh.

“You should have seen his face,” you purred, arching into his hands, now sitting over him, straddling him.

L’s face was flushed, and he tugged open the belt on the robe to pull the lapels aside and bare you to him. “I’d much rather have seen yours,” he murmured, and then he was leaning forward to set his lips and his tongue to all the most deliciously sensitive places on your chest.

You moaned, cradling his head, his dark, thick hair carding between your fingers. “H-How…” and you cut yourself off with your own gasp, moaning and arching when his clever hand dipped between your thighs. “How long until you think you can go again?”

He moaned, falling back on the pillows. “A little while,” he admitted, and his fingers moved just _right_ , in a way that always made you growl and buck and sink your nails into the bedding. “But I’m sure we can find things to do in the meantime,” he chuckled.

You hotly panted your agreement, and you fell down onto him to claim his lips in a hot, breathy kiss.

 _All yours_.

* * *

The next morning, you dropped L off directly at the precinct before you headed to the clinic. He didn’t visit at all that day, and a phone call that night confirmed that Light brought down the metaphorical hammer – he’d left all of the paperwork that went to their higher-ups for L to complete, and it had apparently taken him all day and well into the evening to complete.

It was a little lonely that night without him, though his scent still lingered all over your house, on the furniture and branded into the sheets, even when you washed them. That sweet scent comforted you, though it was no comparison to the real thing.

Still, you managed to get to bed and fall asleep at a reasonable time, though you once again woke up early the next morning. The house was empty and quiet as you prepared yourself to leave for work.

When you looked in the mirror to make sure that your ponytail wasn’t lopsided, you had no idea what exactly the day had in store for you.

But even if you had, you probably still would have left.

* * *

* * *

* * *

The drive to town was generally a peaceful one, one that you often passed in a half-stupor that you always felt guilty about upon arriving at your destination. There wasn’t usually a lot of traffic, especially with how early you had to head out most mornings, though if you were running late you would sometimes cross paths with the school bus on weekdays.

You looked both ways at a stop sign before turning right. Just as you were about to really start accelerating, you saw it.

A lump of fur on the side of the road… snow stained with road salt and blood. The pelt was the wrong color to be a deer, and too big to be much else.

It was a dog.

Fortunately, there wasn’t anyone behind you when you slammed on the brakes. It was a last-minute decision to flip on your caution lights as you pulled over onto the shoulder of the road. The scent hit you, hot and metallic, as soon as you opened the door.

You heard the wet, choked wheezing, the pained whimpers, and you quickly rushed to get your kit from your trunk.

A despairing noise whined in your throat as you looked at the scene.

Red drag marks marred the tire-beaten snow and ice, and the poor puppy slumped itself over the snowbank, no longer able to drag itself further out of the road.

Pained brown eyes gazed up at you, and a tail slowly thumped.

You quickly ripped off your gloves and knelt on the snowbank next to the injured dog. The cold, wet sensation against your knees and shins didn’t even register in your mind.

“Hey, baby,” you cooed, soothingly, and reached to gently palpate the dog’s fur. There was hardly any external damage, just a few scrapes and lacerations, but you could tell by the way she whined that the internal damage was extensive.

Each breath was choking with blood that bubbled out of her mouth in hot, wet lines, and her heart rate was slowing and quieting by the second.

It was too late.

You were too late.

She was going to die, and there was nothing you could do to save her. 

Your eyes stung, hot tears trekking down your face, and you gently cradled the dog close as you fumbled at your kit with a bloodstained hand to pull out a syringe and a tiny glass bottle.

You shook hard, almost unable to punch through the filmy lid with the needle tip, and you dragged up the plunger.

The dog whimpered in your arms, and you petted her ear softly. “I know it hurts, baby,” you choked, making sure to get the air bubbles out of the solution before you tenderly injected it.

A high-powered horse tranquilizer.

She barely flinched, and you hardly noticed the way blood was rolling out of her mouth and onto your pants. You petted her in long, soothing strokes as the agonized tension faded from her, as she slumped in your arms and descended quickly into a drugged stupor. You could only hope that the overdose killed her before her internal bleeding did.

She was looking at you the whole time, even as the weak tail thumping gradually faded away with her heartbeat, until she was still, eyes sliding closed, and it was only a handful of seconds later that her heart stopped beating completely.

You gently rocked with her on your lap, and you shakily petted her soft ears as you tried to fight back the sobs threatening to consume you.

It wasn’t the first time that you’ve lost a patient.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Some _bastard_ had come down around those curves too fast and hit her and just _left her there_ and she was trying to drag herself back home and –

You paused at that thought. She was wearing a collar. You gently handled her, turned her collar to look at the blood-smeared silver tag attached to the D-ring. No name, only an address and a phone number.

Breath stuttering in your chest, you looked up and down the road. It was close to here.

With your kit strapped to you, you gingerly looped your arms around the dog and easily hefted her rather considerable weight. You walked back to the trunk, and managed to open it with one hand. You had a blanket there, and you wrapped her up in it before putting your kit back down. You walked back around, depositing her in the back seat. You closed the trunk and, hands shaking, climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Let’s get you home, girl,” you whispered to your silent passenger.

The address was just down the road a little ways, as you soon found out, and you pulled into the driveway, blowing out a breath when you saw a car in the driveway. You were torn, on whether or not you were going to bring her up there with you – but in case her humans decided to lash out at you (in their grief, you would be the most accessible person to blame), you decided limiting how much time you were there would be best. So you scooped her up again, and you walked, blood- and tearstained, up to the rickety porch. You awkwardly cradled her against one shoulder to rap your knuckles on the browned screen door.

Dogs barked, so many loud noises that it made your ears ache. And then, finally, a man opened the door, and gazed blankly at you through the screen. He seemed vaguely familiar – he hadn’t ever been to the clinic, but you knew you had seen him around town.

He didn’t say anything, only stared at you.

Your tongue tripped over itself. “Y-Your dog – Someone hit her, and I…” A rough, shuddering breath. “I tried to save her, but I couldn’t.” Your shaking, bloodied hands fisted in the blanket as he continued to just _stare_.

Then he sniffed, jerking his head to one side in a brusque gesture.

“Just leave it on the porch. I’ll take care of it later.”

“Take care of her…” you echoed.

“Well, yeah, it’s too cold to bury it, so I’ll probably bag it up and drop it off somewhere.”

You choked at him, but he was already slamming the door in your face.

_Drop it off somewhere._

You robotically turned around.

 _Where_?

Off in the woods somewhere? On the side of the road? _At the dump?_

Tears in your eyes, your entire body shaking, you carried her back to your car and gently deposited her into your backseat.

Even as sobs wracked your lungs, you didn’t look back when you pulled out of the driveway.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Kirsten looked up from her computer as L stepped in from outside. He had a paper bag tucked under his arm. Ester had brought him "extra" cookies, and he didn’t feel like sharing them with either Light or Matsuda, and decided to bring them here.

But he found himself freezing when Kirsten’s round eyes landed on him.

He hummed low in his throat in question, and Kirsten turned herself in her seat to fully face him.

“Um, Doc’s not here right now.”

“She… isn’t?” He fought the frown tugging at his lips. But… he’d just agreed with her to visit today…

“Yeah, she called in, saying she couldn’t come in today. She was crying. I thought you would… know,” Kirsten continued, trailing off as the frown decided to make itself more than known and continued to grow deeper.

“I didn’t.” Obviously. “Crying?” he repeated.

“… Yeah. She, uh, didn’t say why.” Kirsten was starting to fidget in her seat under his unnerving gaze.

“You didn’t ask why.” A statement, not a question.

It had to have been something _severe_ to make her miss work, especially when he knew she had home calls to make.

“I mean, it’s not really any of my busi—” but he didn’t hear the rest because he was already out the door and walking fast back to the precinct.

He couldn’t even imagine what it could be.

Ester’s greeting went right through one ear and out the other as he cut through the lobby and to the hallway.

And he had a very active imagination.

He burst through the door. “Light, I need the car keys.”

“Why? And you don’t drive,” Light asked, immediately squinting up at him.

“Just give me the damn car keys, Light.” Impatient, he barely waited before he was lunging forward, and faster than Light could swipe them away, he had them pinched between his fingers, and he was already out the door as Light began to yell at his back, and the sound of the footfalls followed him.

“What the hell is going on, L?” Light called.

“I have no idea.” she was gone and she was crying, and she never missed work and she never _cried_ and he had to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible.

* * *

He’d memorized the way to her house that first night, but it felt so different driving himself there, especially when he didn’t drive often, and especially when he felt like his fingers were going to shake their way right off his hands.

But he made it there in one piece, and her vehicle was in the driveway. He hastily threw the shift stick into park and turned the engine off. He left the keys in the ignition, forgotten, when he climbed out of the driver’s seat. It was only the habitual reflex of closing the door behind him or it would have been left open.

The door was still locked when he went to open it, and there was no answer when he rapidly rapped his knuckles on it, over and over, sure to gain her attention, but it didn’t, or it did and she was ignoring him.

With a huff of breath that pained his tight lungs, he whirled on his heel to stare out at the driveway.

And that’s when he noticed it.

In the snow just off the plowed driveway, there were footprints in the snow, many of them, fresh and layered over one another, like she took several trips, and they all led around the house to the backyard.

With a frown, he carefully set his feet in her tracks and followed them. And then the layers diverged into two paths: a single set heading toward the barn, and layers of tracks heading towards –

Right where she was, clad in her jacket and scrubs, shovel in hand, digging a hole right in the middle of her yard, in the winter.

Dark material stood out stark against the white of the snow next to the growing hole, and the wind huffed through, and it fluttered, and L saw a flank of dark brown fur.

His breath caught in his throat.

He nearly tripped, feet misplaced in his hurry, but he was quick to right himself.

He could hear her now, the crunch of a steel spade in frozen ground, the rustle of her coat as she tossed chunks of icy sod and soil over her shoulder rhythmically, as she panted and – and _sobbed_.

He barely managed to dodge a flying hunk of ice and dirt, and he gasped her name, then a little louder, calling it, trying to get her attention.

It worked; she whirled, eyes wide. Her eyelids were swollen, her hair was slicked to her tear-stained cheeks, and they stared at one another a moment.

And then her face crumpled – and he couldn’t hear it but he saw the way her lips twisted and mouthed his name, and she dropped the shovel to sob, shoulders wracking, and he didn’t care about following her footsteps – he plowed right through the snow to catch her in his arms as she fell forward.

She fell heavily against him, her fingers curling into his jacket, and he could smell it on her – the overwhelming scent of blood, but he passed his gloved hand through her hair and held her as she sobbed incoherently. He rested his cheek against her crown and looked at the bundle on the ground.

The outline was clear now. It was a dog.

He hushed her as she tried to speak, choked with tears, “Calm down, and then you can tell me, okay?”

Her head jerked in a nod, and her arms twined around him to hold him in a tight, trembling embrace. She was shaking and shivering in his arms, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his heart twist painfully in his chest.

Slowly, she went slack against him, until she was just sniffling and hiccupping, and her arms hung low around his waist.

“I found her on the side of the road,” she began, taking a shuddering breath in, and he gently massaged his thumb into the back of her neck. “Someone – someone,” a wet sniffle, choked-off tears, “someone hit her and just – just _left her there._ ” She leaned back, and L let her, met her gaze, and suddenly he was seeing his hand on her cheek, stroking her hair back from her wet, reddened cheeks. “She’d tried to drag herself out of the road,” and her lips wobbled with each word. “She was still alive when I found her.”

He nodded silently.

“She was so happy to see me.” More tears shined in her eyes, and he brushed them away as soon as they welled up to spill on her cheeks. “But I knew I couldn’t help her. There was too much internal damage – I’d never be able to bring her back to the clinic in time.” L stared into those eyes, filled with sorrow and _hurt_. “And I didn’t want her to be in pain anymore, so I took a syringe full of horse tranquilizer—” and she cut herself off with a shuddering inhale.

“I understand,” L said, not wanting her to say it if it was just going to make her sob like that again.

“A-And,” another wet inhale, “and sh-she had a collar, but there was no name, but I brought her _back there_ ,” she spat the words out like they were burning her tongue, “and he just _stared at me_ and said he would _drop her off somewhere._ ” And she was _angry_ , burning with this agonized rage, but she softened, compassionate, as she said, “I couldn’t just leave her there. I-I needed to make sure she got buried properly. I don’t even think she had a name and I want her to know that _somebody_ cared about her.”

L’s heart clenched painfully, and he tugged her close as she broke down again, weeping, and the words were on his tongue, gentle, “ _Oh, sweetheart_ ” in a language she didn’t understand and that he didn’t even realize he was using. He reverently petted her hair, rubbed a hand over her back, as she fell to pieces in his arms again.

It didn’t take her long to calm down again, and she pulled back, wiping at her face with her jacket sleeve. She sniffled quietly. “I-I should probably get back to digging.”

He glanced back down to the rather sizable hole she’d already started, but the dog was by no means small, so it seemed she still had a lot of work ahead of her. “With the ground frozen?” he murmured, awed that she’d managed to cut through so much of it already.

She huffed, chuckling sheepishly, embarrassed. “Y-Yeah.”

“Give me your keys,” he murmured, nudging her. “I’ll go inside and boil some water.”

She blinked widely, and he couldn’t help leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

“To dump on the ground,” he said against her skin before pulling back. “It might make it a little heavier, but it will be easier to dig through.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she whispered, hiccupping and sniffling, and then she was setting her house keys in his palm.

* * *

It took a while to get it all done, but it was early afternoon by the time she was trying to haphazardly piece together the sod on top of the grave.

“And in the spring, I’ll plant something here. Maybe something that flowers. Something the bees can enjoy.” She was practically rambling at this point, talking to herself more than to L, really, but he still listened intently.

And he had to shepherd her inside, and he coaxed her into taking off her bloody scrubs to take a shower to wash all the blood and tears and dirt away. Meanwhile, he fixed her a hot cup of tea. There were leftovers from her dinner the night before that he warmed up for her – preferably, he would have cooked lunch for her himself, but that was more dangerous an idea than he would care to admit, but when she stepped out, clad in some cute flannel pajamas, she was grateful nonetheless.

And then they curled up on the couch, and she laid against his chest and gently hiccupped in his arms as she quietly watched her favorite movie.

L wasn’t paying much attention to the screen, and instead watched how her damp locks of hair slithered between his pale fingers. He brought a tress up to his lips, felt the texture against the sensitive skin before relaxing his hand and letting the strands fall away.

She looked up at him, her eyes so warm and soft, and his breath was strangled in his lungs.

“Stay?” she whispered.

And he nodded dazedly.

And he _knew_.

He’d thought he’d felt these feelings many times before for other women, but all those instances felt like foolish schoolboy crushes in comparison, because nothing could be realer than this, and he _knew_.

He knew – he was in love with this woman. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The reader is driving to work when she sees an injured dog on the side of the road. The dog was hit by a car and dying of internal injuries. The reader knows she cannot save the dog, so she instead euthanizes it with a horse tranquilizer shot to help end the dog's suffering. She brings the dog to the address on the dog's collar tag, but the man that answers the door basically dismisses her, saying he'll "drop it off somewhere" because the ground is too frozen to bury it. The reader decides to take the dog with her back home. 
> 
> Line break to L coming to the clinic. Kirsten tells him that the Doctor is not in -- she called, crying, and they weren't sure why she was so distraught. L basically panics, returns to the precinct, and takes the car keys from Light. He goes to the reader's house and finds her in the back yard digging through the frozen ground (an impressive feat of strength). She breaks down and tells him what happened, and he prepares to help her dig the hole by boiling water to dump on the frozen ground. 
> 
> Line break to L getting the reader inside and basically taking care of her. They are curled up on the couch watching a movie when she asks him to stay. He realizes the depth of his emotions for the veterinarian. End chapter.
> 
> Ahhh, so yeah, this is, emotionally, a tough chapter. But several of the elements in it are necessary and will be referenced in future chapters. Anyways, I hope this chapter touched you in some way, since that's kind of the point, but tell me about any critiques you may have about the story thus far. Starting next chapter, we are heading into the end game of this story. We still have a lot of material to get through, though.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, come yell at me [ on my tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/draconicmaw) if you want. I'm always ready to talk.
> 
> For those it may interest I have also compiled [ this playlist ](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLUUDhgGOAngH15uVjt6Z2rUZygMiZndQX) on YouTube. I would 100% be interested in any songs/pieces that any of you may think belong on this playlist.


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